#but its still hard to accept their first to have coupled with a man from tevinter and birthed two children who'd look more human than elven

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU- but the boys see you slowly opening up to them

A/N: i just feel too soft for these boiyos (is this self-indulgent? yeah) Masterlist here! Song Inspo here!

Johnny was one of the first that you truly opened up and relied on during your first couple of weeks working at the bakery

You could recall like it was yesterday

It was during a particularly rough night for everyone

Your shift was shit for the amount of times you were fumbling and being so out of your element just because of a failed presentation during one of your online classes yesterday

You worked so hard and spared so much time on it-- just for it to get roasted and toasted by the panel of biased professors who only believed in "abstract" art

So working with that over your head wasn't fun

Neither was Johnny on his end

Their job turned out to be a bust and even lost one of their more loyal men to some ambush their informant set up for them

To put it simply, everyone was a mess

Words of comfort were reached in neither sides, nor did any of you try to

You all just couldn't

Not right now at least

Even as you and Johnny sit at the sidewalk in front of the bakery

Sharing a smoke and a small drink in between you two

Something to drown in for the moment, to decompress you suppose

You had a couple of inches in between you two, keeping a respectable distance from each other's personal space

Soap, even when was cooped up in his headspace, was hyper aware of how he shouldn't cross the line by touching your fingers as you passed the cig or when grabbing the glass

Somehow, you two always reached for the same thing at the same time

Which made you breath out a sigh before just inching closer to him, making him look at out in curiousness

Once your shoulders were touching, you placed the cup on your thigh, hand wrapped around it so it wouldn't spill

And ever so...gently, your head lands on his as you offer the almost finished cig to him

This time, its easier to reach for it, easier to accept it

After a puff, he leans into your head as well, your temples touching and pounding against each other

But you both don't mind

Not even when he wrapped his hand on the other side of the glass

Not even when he laid an arm around you to pull you closer to him

Not even when he smelled your hair, taking in a deep breath of it and exhaling it out shakily

Not even when he pulled you close for a hug you both seemed to need more than a cancer stick and some poisoned drink

Gaz starts noticing you more, and he doesn't even know when or how it happened-- but it just did

Everyday, every time you get his breakfast from the kitchen yawning all the while with a head of hair that just might be worst than a nest (as Soap likes to call it)

He notices how you blink more often when the sleep is still scattered across your face

He notices how you yawn so softly and stretch quite similarly to the white cat you take care of

He notices how your smile, the many variations of it, is particularly designed to whoever you talk to

And he thinks the one you give him is the most adorable one

Cheeks slightly puffed up with small :3 made him want to pinch em

You notice this one day as you see him do some sort of grabby hands behind you and you could only assume the best from this man

He has treated you so so well compared to all the other people you've met so far in your life

Always made sure you were comfy and just treated you like a person, valuing your opinion and putting your safety first over everything

Always looking out for you and making sure your fridge is well stocked on days you got sick or even just regular days when it gets a little rough-- he was always there

So you thought, why not let him pinch your cheeks a little?

Turning around, you bend to his eye level and gave him your grin, offering your cheeks to him

He gasps in realization, hands already raised to do it

Yet... he hesitates, asking if you were fine with it

You laugh, saying that just because he asked he's have full reign for five minutes

His eyes were already shining, you were giving him that much power? Oh you'll regret it

He then goes off to coo at you and squish at them mercilessly-- even making you do funny fish faces that made you- try to- swat him away for a couple of times

Afterwards, with your cheeks all rosy, he tries his best to soothe them and gives you an apologetic smile-- promising he'd make it up to you

But you deny, telling him that was you repaying him and he could do it anytime he wanted from now on

This time he doesn't hesitate and does it again, despite your efforts of you running away from him

Simon and you didn't quite get along, so much so that your petty arguments with him would be worse than yours with Johnny's

So its quite a wonder when you find yourself crying at his doorstep, rain pouring so harshly behind you that he knew that he had no choice but to house you for a while

Simon was never good with handling emotions nor was it easy for him to handle it himself, so he could only ask for your forgiveness in his head as he tries his best to clean you up and comfort you in a way he knew best

Some coffee and pastries.

Once you got out of the shower all warmed up and dried with a fresh set of clothes he gave you (and his poor dear heart was about to explode from seeing you in his clothes), you went up to him and thanked him

For a lot of things, but before you could get another word in- he shoves a cookie in your mouth-- commanding you to chew and sit at the table, where a tray of pastries ranging from sweet to savory that was accompanied mug of coffee

Your eyes soften at how much he's giving and you relent, sitting down with him and deciding that maybe its alright to stay at his place for now while you wait out the rain

He doesn't question why you came to him out of all the others

He doesn't question why you cried

He doesn't question why you gripped him in a hug so hard it reminded him of child him

He doesn't question why you were trembling all the way to the bathroom, scared to even touch the water

So he tried to help you, show you that's it okay

And he grounded you, and he expects nothing in return

Not minding if you went back to your usual self of keeping up the banter between you

So he doesn't expect to hear you talk, to share your story

To explain why you find yourself here at this moment

And he lets you, and he thinks that maybe he minds more than he thinks, cares more than he lets on, and thinks he should question you a bit more

for once, you're thankful he brushes aside your apologies (however sarcastic it may be) and lets you be

And maybe from the way he had shared some of the things he liked with you, you were more inclined to owe him something-- even if he cared less for it

For once, you're glad Simon didn't mind you and your presence in his space-- its calm and cool, just like him

Somehow, you find it more comforting than the space you're currently living in (even if it had the same vibe) and sharing this sentiment with Simon makes him chuckle

So when he offered him place whenever it gets too cold in yours, you told him he had no 'take back-sies' and you were gonna abuse that right now

This makes him rolls his eyes, not surprised at how you're back to your usual gremlin self

And... he definitely prefers this sight than the one by his doorstep just a few moments ago

Price always tried to observe you and your little mannerisms, taking note of your routine, and pointing it whenever it you stray off from it

Making you quite surprised at how much attention he's giving you and he chuckles, reminding you that he's always there to help you

He cares so openly that its hard not to love the guy extra special

Whether that came into putting more efforts to his food prep or making sure he got all of his nutrients in his meals

you were sure to give best effort when it came to him

But he made it hard for you to do that

Not when he does anything in his power to make it easier, making so easy to like and pleasant to talk with

But only when he finds himself downtrodden in front of you does he actually see how much you've grown on him (and vice versa)

It was a lone night in the bakery, and he was downing drink after drink

Just to get his mind off some nightmare that haunted him during a nap he took in his office

He told the boys he wouldn't be long, promising to follow them after a couple more drinks

But... he couldn't

Not when he was so inebriated that somehow, when he woke up, he finds himself in your bed-- and you lying on a makeshift one at the couch

The guilt grows when he sees himself in clean clothes, body feeling more clean than ever, and a wet towel and basin right besides him

you took care of him

you let him into your home

He sighs, kicking himself mentally for drinking too much, but for also forcing you to take care of him

He also wants to talk about you bringing men into your apartment again but... when he sees that peaceful sleeping face despite the uncomfortable place you were positioned in, he decides to put that on the back of his mind

He wants to pay back your efforts into taking care of him so he carefully trudges about your mini kitchen, making you your favorite food and setting it onto the coffee table before waking you up (and bless John's heart for wanting to see this moment everyday for the rest of his life)

He feels lucky that you trust him enough, and you feel lucky for trusting a man that would also take care of you in return

So you then share the breakfast, indulging in light-hearted chats that made him even feel better than a night out drinking away his sorrows

You find yourself happy to help this man take off a couple of weight off his shoulders now and again, especially with how devastated he looked last night

So you try-- for him, try reaching out of your shell for him in return for all the kindness he's shown you (and he's very much appreciative of this)

A/N: Nothin much but a lil blurb i can't wait for winter to come :<<

Taglist!: @accidental-obsessionist @sunshineistoofuckingbright @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[nakedcleric]

♥ pairing: sero hanta x reader

♥ wc: 920

very short thirst but

tw: cuckoldry, manipulation, dubious consent, squirting, mysogyny, dacryphilia, reader has small tiddies, everyone is plus 20

Your boyfriend being unable to satisfy you sexually, so even though you strongly insist that you don't mind, he gaslights you to the point of convincing you to lay down and let someone else fuck you. Even though its truly more for him than you, he manages to manipulate you enough to think that this is all for you.

So he invites Sero.

Your childhood best friend. The one who would make it a point to be a clown in class so you would laugh and both get sent to detention. The one who gave you your first joint and layed down with you in the middle of the road while watching the stars. The one who offered you a shoulder to cry on when you first had your heart broken and who drove you to a Dairy Queen in the middle of snowstorm just so you could have a treat.

You expect the whole thing to be awkward, maybe even hilarious in hindsight, one of those half assed things that end up being interrupted since no one can really take it seriously.

Quite the opposite happens.

You don't recognize your childhood friend when he takes a long drag of his joint and nonchalantly plays with your nipples, looking down at you with a dark gaze full of lust.

"Can't believe you're letting me fuck your girl, Kei," he says, his voice deep and burnt. The whole time, he addressee you like a piece of meat your boyfriend is letting him use, like a pretty little doll he is going to have with, rather than his childhood best friend, which you are. Or maybe, thought you were.

You don't know who he is when he fingers you with the full force of his arm, making you squeal in pain and pleasure. He covers your mouth with his other hand before you can complain, chuckling about how fucking loud you are, about how you always needed a real man to tell you to shut the fuck up. You look at your boyfriend with fear in your eyes, but you just get pure contempt in return, and you realize you're alone.

He is just so fucking nasty with you. He touches you so shamelessly, squeezing and licking your tits and biting your nipples hard enough to make you cry. He laughs about how tiny your tits are, about how he always wanted to fuck them to see you struggle to keep his dick inbetween them. How he always wanted to suck on them through those tight shirts you'd wear, mocking you for thinking not wearing a bra was acceptable for you.

He spills every dark thought he has ever had, loving the way tears well up in your eyes at the pure humiliation. "She is pretending she doesn't enjoy it," he says, pulling his fingers out of you and showing the slickness inbetween them to your boyfriend, "but look at how wet she is."

As much as you hate to admit it, you haven't been this aroused since a long time ago. You hate the way you almost came from fingering, hate the way your cunt enjoyed his dirty talking, hate the way you want more.

Your boyfriend doesn't answer, instead just remaining on his seat, glaring at you, and you feel your heart and dignity shatter even more.

Sero pulls his cock out, long, thick and veiny, giving it a couple of strokes as he stares down at you with slightly bloodshot eyes, "Finally, huh?" He asks, mockingly.

Sero doesn't take his time with you like your boyfriend does. Since you're so tight, it always takes a few tries to Kei in, which he's kind enough to always be considerate of, but Sero isn't. He pushes his whole length inside you with no warning, making you scream in pain, "W-wait, it hurts, it hur-"

Sero interrupts you by kissing you passionately, the taste of weed and nicotine tickling your senses as he sucks on your tongue and drinks up every single one of your whines and moans. He fucks you fairly slowly at first, still bottoming out every time. He grits his teeth, as he wraps his finger around your throat and presses hard, frustrated by how tight you are.

The shame, guilt, arousal, everything, they break your mind until you can't think anymore. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, now trying to meet his hips with yours, fucked out eyes staring at your childhood best friend with too many emotions to calculate. He fucks you hard, making the bed shake like it has never shaken before, and all you can do is moan loudly as you let your best friend ravage you like he always wanted to.

Pressure builds inside you, and you realize this is the only time someone else is close to making you cum. You're scared, and horny, and can't see through the many tears overflowing your eyes.

You cum the hardest you ever have. A violent orgasm shakes your whole body up and down, the pleasure too much for you to handle. The knot inside you comes undone as the pressure pushes you to gush all over Sero's cock and toned abs. He grits his teeth, as he pulls out and starts jerking off at the incredible sight. He cums soon after you, painting your tits and stomach with white ropes, one, two, three times, as he moans through his orgasm.

The last thing you hear before passing out is the broken voice of your boyfriend,

"You...can squirt?"

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Because I've really enjoyed Peaceful Property and contributed to the discourse on here around it, I want to spend some time exploring the thoughtful critiques of the show by @bengiyo, @lurkingshan, @twig-tea, @respectthepetty, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, and @one-of-tankhuns-neurons. I started writing this out but then it got all annoying and academic so imma just list rant with the utmost respect for everyone's thoughts for making me think so much about this show.

1.I wondered about what shows might be examples of class division themes done with an orientation toward the lived experiences of the working class in BL, cuz honestly it's just not super prominent and well-done in much of media anywhere. The Aof series where he takes screenwriting credit seem to be the best representatives: ATOTS and Moonlight Chicken, especially, but he touches on macro and micro economic issues in all his works. Aof's really willing to depict the hardships and compromises required when living with less financial security, and I can def agree that Peaceful Property is not offering that. I just personally feel okay with that, because I see the latter show as doing a more theoretical and symbolic narrative about economics, and overt symbolism seems pretty in-line with the ghost story horror genre its using.

2. To me, I see Peaceful Property's main critique of class issues as being about Marxist alienation. So we've got our first two ghosts being really literal with this, where they have a labor they do and a final product that they don't get to partake in. Builder wants to have a meal in the house he built. Wig maker wants to wear the luxury wig she sewed. Then, with rider, we get a lil more abstract with him wanting him and his delivery to be recognized and build a meaningful relationship with someone. And since then we've been getting more and more abstract about people finding personal meaning and supporting others through their labor. But all of it still connects back to this idea of alienation from their labor, the magician, Chef Hong, and Peach are all prevented from performing the labor that brings them fulfillment by different circumstances.

3. For my reading, the queerness is very much part and parcel of its capitalism critique. Agree with it or not, but man x man loving stories have been used historically to run counter to the competition between men fighting for the top spot encouraged by capitalism. Maurice is a pretty prime example of this, where Maurice, instead of pining upward for Clive, ends up choosing the lower-class Alex and running away to be happy together. Pat and Pran's love in the face of their family's business related feud in Bud Buddy is an even closer example to how I think Peaceful Property is contrasting queer love and capitalistic competition. There's a few signals for me that Peaceful Property plans to explore this a bit more. The Cok Long sign reminds me way too much of the slang of "dick measuring competitions" and I don't think they gave us a character named 'Best,' who has reappeared a couple of times for no reason. With the magician, Pang, and Chef Hong, we also have a repeating motif of lost assistants who made the work meaningful and possible, a socialist emphasis on the value of all workers and the need to connect with others to produce their labors of love, which we see thwarted for the queer story line. The fact that the Thai dancing was two men working together to create the art offers an alternative to a competition between men. And I want to say that I'm just talking about narrative devices here, not the reality of how capitalism works. We're very much in symbolist land, with this take. I'm just a sucker for symbolist land, and it's hard for me to watch horror especially without taking my brain there.

4. And then there's the way queerness alienates one from the accepted 'normal,' which has emerged as a dominant theme in the last few episodes. But if we take this theme and apply it back on previous episodes, we can see traces of it throughout the characters. Home's statements have been the most explicit in illustrating an internalized homophobia with his desire to be part of a 'normal family.' And the tensions with his family about whether he deserved to inherit the properties has queer connotations about queer people's inclusion in their families and the legal and financial repercussions of that (What Did You Eat Yesterday is the top tier of detailed impacts of queer rights in that vein). Peach's social anxieties and depressive behaviors, ostensibly related to his close call with death and ability to see ghosts, parallels queer experiences, too, and we see how it shapes his and his sister's financial predicaments. (Aside: I wonder, regarding some of the complaints about their behavior in the context of poverty, if we might better read the two of them as broke middle class characters. We don't have much context about their childhoods, but their behavior has never really presented as people familiar with getting by on a dime.) Queerness and the threats of financial insecurity have been articulated as interrelated by the series.

5. Home's redemption? We'll know more as things get revealed, but it seems that we're meant to see Home's biggest failing as the negligence that allowed him to hit Peace and his cowardice in not standing up to his family and taking responsibility for the harm he caused. If that is his chief issue, in my view of a restorative process (and thank you so much @respectthepetty for naming this aspect of the show!), the necessary amends are...

facing up to his family (partial check)

admitting his mistakes and seeking forgiveness from Peach (he was in the process of doing so in the latest ep)

addressing the distraction that led to his negligence so that he can attend to Peach and people like Peach so it does not occur again (hmmm...)

That last point is key because we still don't know why it was significant that he was on his busy ignoring the call of girlfriend number 32 or whatever. But I'm suspecting it will connect to Home's internalized homophobia (and @heretherebedork has done some great writing about that subtext). That would give the accident a significance regarding horizontal violence between gay men that the privileged can then run away from while others who can't escape have to suffer the consequences. There's lots of ways queer men can and have done this to one another in everyday life and hook-ups but at the most extreme historically we have the the AIDS crisis, where someone's negligence regarding sexual health inspired by the psychological fear induced by being in the closet could truly be a life-or-death matter with major financial ramifications. For Home to truly own his mistake he is going to have to risk his own financial security in standing up to his family, and he's going to have to stop hiding from himself so he can develop compassion for others in the world. And the last scene in which we see him in the same predicament as Home I saw less as a cop out so Peach and the audience would feel bad for him and forgive him and more as a representation of his ability now to truly understand what Peach has gone through.

6. Do I think this series is going to solve capitalism? This show is about the spiritual dimensions capitalism robs from people, and I think it has real answers about disrupting capitalism through reconnection with our relationships to our work and to other human beings. I'm not religious, but I respect religion's ability to help people find and emphasize a deeper meaning in life, and I think that that doesn't necessarily but can challenge capitalist practices. Peaceful Property is working to show how caring about spiritual well-being breaks up the automaticity of capitalism and has never let go of that thread. To discuss Peaceful Property's takes on class division without speaking about its religious elements seems disingenuous to its greater purpose and a bit disrespectful to the Thai culture the series is so infused with. I'm intrigued about how Kan's plot will play out with the Vimarnsukmun family and it's impact on their finances. What would actually disappoint me and run counter to the show's themes is if the gang somehow inherited the family's wealth or properties other than the ramshackle Cok Long Cocktail Lounge. In Aof's work and in Maurice, the endings involve a disinheritance to represent that life is about connection not financial gain, which contrasts philosophically with the upward fantasies of capitalism. So in ATOTS, Tian moves to the village, in Moonlight Chicken, Jim trades out his diner for a smaller food truck, etc. To find the true meaning of home, Home will need to release himself from his attachment to his inheritance of financial privilege. Of course, being dead might be an option for that lol, but we'll see how the rest of the series plays out.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG

Ollie Bearman and his girlfriend turned wife, as seen from social media and the public. 

series masterlist

reader has a name and a no fc, but is portrayed as East Asian :) No warnings, probably going to have multiple parts :) ALSO NO HATE TO MACE CORONEL I literally searched up young actors and he popped up AND no hate to ollie and Estelle's relationship I just wanted to write for fun. pls be kind this is baby's first Tumblr post also someone pls help me how do I make my blog aesthetic

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

E-news!

TRENDING NOW

AUBREY YANG WINS OSCAR AT AGE 17

Aubrey Yang, age 17, wins Best Supporting Actress in break out role on blockbuster movie, Station 13. This young star has been acting since the age of 7, landing roles such in which she worked with household names like Michelle Yeoh and Robin Williams. Her astounding and emotional performance as a newly orphaned teen in the apocalypse adjacent Morgan Freeman has secured her spot in this tumultuous industry. In her acceptance speech, Yang delivered an impactful critique on Asian presence in Western Media and how her win is “ not just [hers], but for all of us”. 

Yang is set to star in upcoming movie, White Jade Tiger, a historical film based on the book of the same name, directed by John M. Chu next fall. 

See below for Audrey Yang’s Acceptance Speech I 2024 Academy Awards. 

aubreyyang posted

liked by morganfreeman, michelleyeoh_official, and 987,432 others

aubreyyang Wow. I am still in absolute shock. Thank you so much to everyone who supported me and helped make this happen. Here’s to more change and more love in the future! 

view all 26,183 comments

morganfreeman well done, and well deserved Aubrey. It was an honor seeing your incredible talent and hard work. 

— aubreyyang thank you so much for guiding me and imparting your wisdom!! I love you on set dad!

michelleyeoh_official They grow up so fast…proud of you, Aubrey!

— aubreyyang MICHELLE MY HERO

dior.n.goodjohn MY QUEEN YOUVE SLAYED TOO HARD IM AFRAID

— aubreyyang AHHH MY GF VAN TRIP WHEN???

user dior and aubrey are friends???

user2 yes they’re both from vancouver their friendship is so cute 

macecoronel ❤️

liked by author 

sabrinacarpenter girlboss

aubreyyang SABBB my lover

olliebearman posted

olliebearman Spring break, ready to get back on (the) track 😁

tagged: kimi.antonelli

comments are turned off.

liked by kimi.antonelli, arthur_leclerc, and 7,4720 others

celebgossipnews_page posted

celebgossipnews_page Aubrey Yang has won an Oscar: but is she winning in the love department? The actress was seen arguing with long-term boyfriend, Mace Coronel in front of Nobu Downtown last Friday night, at 9:00 pm. She left the restaurant in tears, without Coronel. Could this power couple break up at the height of Yang’s career?

Liked by 7344 others

view all 207 comments

user1 dude I hate him sm like wdym u pulled Aubrey, the baddest baddie out there

— user2 fr man is washed up

aubreyyyfanpage girl stand up that man is not worth it LEAVE HIM

— yang4eva WORDD miss ma’am he does not deserve u ONE CHANCE PLS

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang as liv once said, its brutal out here 

liked by celine_diorr and others

view all 20 comments

celine_diorr NAH NO WAY LIL BRO CHEATED ON U LIKE WDYM

celine_diorr WHEN I CATCH U BRO WHEN I CATCH U

liv_laugh_love girl are r u ok u know its bad when ur quoting me

— aubberieyaang I can’t help it I start singing one step forward three steps back whenever I start crying

chuck_bushes do u want me and walker to go beat him up

— celine_diorr YO I want in

— aryannawhatrudoinghere me too

— walkdontrun pulling up to his house rn

— leeahh_j AUBREY I LOVE YOU DONT CRY

— aubberieyaang AW I LOVE U GUYS

dallastexas dude how r u showing up to set and pretending to be okay

dallastexas im gonna grab food and come over to urs

— aubberieyaang PLS. Also water im so dehydrated

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[izvmimi]

cw: apology smut. minors dni.

this is the first time you've let katsuki touch you since your last argument, and katsuki's breath hitches sharply in his throat when you don't automatically withdraw from him. it's sad honestly - it's just a simple brush of his hand against yours as he tries to grab the fridge handle, but the fact that you don't quickly shuffle away from him or give him an annoyed look carries a little too much hope for him.

it hasn't even been a long time since you've started giving him this silent treatment, but the man cannot last more than a couple hours, let alone a full day of you being cold to him. you have to admit it's immature to ignore him, but don't you have the right to be immature once in a while? after all, you endure a lot being married to him, enough that you've stayed off social media, and enough that this is the first time you've actually brought something up to him.

seeing katsuki smiling so widely, laughing with someone else, even if you do ultimately believe him that the relationship with the young, pretty up-and-comer is platonic and the apparent closeness is accentuated by the angle from which the photo was taken, you're still annoyed and made it clear so. after all, you don't appreciate looking like a fool.

he clears his throat and you don't turn to look at him, sitting down at the kitchen table and opening a book as you sip a glass of apple juice with no ice. bakugou pauses, hand sweatier than usual around his own glass of water, and watches you. contemplating. can he try again? will confronting you one more time only prolong this silence or will you cry and dig your heels in, risking a chance to lose you altogether?

he swallows hard, throat suddenly dry, but cannot bring the glass of water to his lips.

then you sigh and look up at him.

"katsuki."

katsuki moves almost too quickly to stand before you, anxiety laden in every step. your eyes slide to the chair next to you and he sits, knees turned in your direction, glass set down too quickly, enough that it wobbles but doesn't fall. ice clinks within and settles.

"yes... princess?"

you twist your mouth to the side but can't really form the words to apologize. after all, you aren't really the one who transgressed; rather it was katsuki not being careful enough to make sure certain pictures didn't run the chance of upsetting you. you're still not sure how that particular magazine made its way on your very doorstep but here you were.

"do you love me?" you ask, firmly.

"so much." he insists. his hands find one of yours and covers them. his eyes are pleading for you to forgive him, the fire of defensive anger no longer behind them. katsuki doesn't yell at you when he's angry but his voice raises. he fights with his words and his fists clench. instead today he holds your hand carefully. he's not a threat and will never be, but he wants you to know that especially today.

you sigh.

"you need a better pr team," you say. katsuki squeezes your hand, lips pulling into a tentative smile.

"i'll fire everyone."

you give him a look, then giggle. "that's not exactly what i asked."

"i know, but it's an option." he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss the back, and you smile.

your husband is yours, no matter what the media may suggest is a more compatible new flame, and he sets out to make sure you know that. you are the only one for him.

so in tune with your shifting emotions, the moment your eyes flicker to his lips, filled with longing, he's kissing you. the act of your mouths connecting turn into a natural acceptance of your tongue, and then the pull of your body, still in last night's pajamas, into his lap. your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you kiss him more, even deeper; he sucks at every part of you, hands finding their way up your shirt, then unbuttoning them until your breasts are bare, pressed against his chest. he lets you disrobe his torso, until you are skin to skin, and the rays of the sun seeping through the kitchen blinds form patterns on your exposed bodies. your hearts pound, and you breathe against each other, rutting against fabric, then your soft parts. you let him slip inside you, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he groans and let you clench around him. the rock of your bodies moving against each other is slow and deep, then fast and desperate until you're clinging to his shoulders and you're crying out his name, trembling.

he carries you to the bedroom still connected, and he recommences until your legs shake and he's whispering his vows again to you into your bosom.

you are the only one for him, and he hopes you'll always have him.

[jennaimmortal]

Musings on OFMD Season 2

I’m feeling a bit sad today for the OFMD writers. After rewatching S1 & 2 a couple times, it’s become blatantly clear to me that Izzy’s arc this season was a very obvious love letter to both Izzy fans & the great Con O’Neil. Izzy was very clearly written to be an obstacle to Ed’s healing & personal growth, a snare that Ed needed to be freed from, albeit with plenty of nuance hiding under the surface. It would have been much easier for them to kill Izzy off while he was still the toxic, abusive, sadomasochistic terror of S1E10.

Instead of taking the easy route, though, the writers flipped the trope on its head! They utilized every bit of the potential buried beneath Izzy’s super fucked up shell. This season Izzy got

• a fully fleshed out redemption complete with terrible consequences of his 1x10 actions

• a realization of the possibility of another way of thinking & existing that he’d spent all of S1 running from & trying to destroy,

• genuine love & support from his crew mates which he was actually able to accept,

• exploration of the long abandoned softer side of his nature,

• an apology from Ed w/o first offering one of his own,

• a powerful, devastatingly poignant speech that mentally demolished a new nemesis, and finally

• a beautiful, meaningful death in the arms of the man he’d dedicated so much of his life to, known that he was truly loved by him & completely accepting of the fact that Ed’s love was not in the form he’d always hoped for.

It was so much more than we could have hoped for, and was very obviously done in service to the MANY fans that had fallen in love with Izzy even after S1, as well as to give Con a storyline worthy of his immense talent. Considering the face that Izzy was never going to end up becoming the show’s third protagonist, it was more than we could have hoped for!

OFMD has two protagonists, Stede & Ed. All the secondary character narratives that haven’t directly involved Ed and/or Stede have been icing on the cake, but the cake has always been the Gentlebeard love story. I feel like some people forget this, expecting them to treat the secondary characters as if it were an ensemble show instead of a show with leads.

Izzy’s arc really was an amazing gift! The writers gave us this incredible journey for Izzy this season, and what did a disgraceful number of people do? They attacked David directly, insulted the entire show, the writers, & other characters, even wishing actual harm & misery to other characters or even to David himself!

While I know that comparatively speaking, the percentage of show fans who reacted this way was relatively small, it was still an astounding amount of hatred & vitriol thrown at the people who had obviously worked very hard to give Izzy fans something beautiful to hold on to after his inevitable death. Much of the discourse honestly shocked me, considering the fact that OFMD isn’t even an adaptation of another work.

When fans get angry at shows written as adaptations of books, it’s a bit more understandable for them to have extreme reactions. They’ve had certain ideas and headcanons about characters they’ve felt very strongly about for a long time. It can be really jarring & painful when expectations like that aren’t met, the characters or plots are taken in totally different directions, or even excluded entirely.

OFMD, however, is an original creation. This is David Jenkins’s story. These are David Jenkins’s characters. He knows his story, his plotlines, his characters far better than anyone else does because they came from HIS brain! So while we as fans can have our own interpretations & head canons, they are always going to be at risk of being proven totally wrong by the ACTUAL canon.

One of the worst aspects of fandoms, in my opinion, is the way people become so proprietary over the story & characters, insisting that their own interpretations & theories are the only correct ones, which is exactly what happened with Izzy. Fans’ individual & collective interpretations, theories, hopes, & other head canons became concrete & true in their minds. So much so that when the actual story didn’t meet those expectations, so many of them lashed out in some truly unpleasant, sometimes hateful ways.

My only hope is that the rest of the fandom’s love, appreciation, constructive criticism, heartbreak, pain, joy, & excitement has been enough to drown out the deluge of vitriolic comments directed at David & the other writers.

If you stuck with me through this unintentionally long diatribe, thank you! Maybe take a moment to give the writers some comments or replies on social media, showing your love! I know I will!

[anachilles]

hi :)) "you'll always be safe with me" for clegan from the prompts list, please?

helloooo! and thank you; hope you enjoy! 🫶 prompt lists i'm currently accepting requests from: [ x ] [ x ]

In the rare moments of stillness in the days following Gale's capture and transport to Stalag Luft III, when he wasn't being poked, prodded, provoked, frogmarched, interrogated, shoved on a train, or barked at by smug, self-satisfied looking German officers, he'd strenuously willed himself not to give into the very basest, most selfish instincts he possessed and wish that John was there. He didn't wish that, not on John, not on anyone, of course he didn't.

He willed himself not even to wish, more abstractly, that they were at least still together wherever that happened to be, somewhere he could keep John in his sights and be secure in the knowledge that he knew where he was and that he was okay. Even that would be tempting fate.

Nowhere was truly safe in this whole bloody affair, not with the job they'd undertaken, but Thorpe Abbotts sure beat a Nazi POW camp, thousands of miles from home.

Those days were some of the loneliest Gale had ever felt though, and the more the adrenaline wore off, the further his usually rock-hard resolve started to weaken. Suppressed, unbidden thoughts of home and comfort and familiarity sprang up like weeds between cracks in the concrete sidewalk, and really there was only one way that line of thinking was going to go.

Savouring the mixture of pain and pleasure, the way they intermingled, fed each other and drove the other forward, had always been more John's thing than his own. Gale, however, had no choice but to appreciate the burn as he watched John half-stumble into camp a few days after his own arrival, a niggling twinge in the back of his mind that somehow he'd willed it himself, damned him to whatever bleak, listless version of life awaited them there.

For a moment though, that was rendered undetectable by the force of John's smile as their eyes finally met, by the way it lit up Gale's chest and made warm what had been for days left barren and cold.

With John in such bad shape physically, Gale's stomach turning every time he looked too long at what the makeshift camp doctor had surmised was an orbital fracture, and infection having been given the chance to set in on his journey there, he was confined to a newly commandeered bunk soon after his arrival.

For the whole first day, Gale didn't leave his side. The other boys said nothing about it, their deferential fondness shining in all the water bowl refills, errand running, and fortifying shoulder squeezes that allowed him to do so. Through tending to his fevered brow with a wet rag, and in between the passages of a novel Gale would try to read when John once again slipped out of lucidity, he was plagued by churning thoughts of just what the hell the other man had to have went through to have gotten there as banged up as he was; what untold horrors he must have seen, or had to have endured himself. John had been in no rush to tell him, not that Gale could blame him, but the chasm of the unknown left opportunity aplenty for worry to fester.

When it periodically threatened to overflow, Gale's free hand would find its way to John's chest, his breaths coming easier at the steady, if shallow, rising and falling under his palm.

He was still in that position on the floor at John's beside, backside numb and limbs stiff and sore, when one of the camp guards stuck their head in, ordering lights out. He couldn't bring himself to get up right away though, John having managed to fall into another uneasy sleep, but with his hand laid resting on Gale's arm.

Though the thought of leaving him unwatched to the mercy of the night was repellent, resigned, Gale first tried to pull himself up into a crouch without having to move his arm, give the poor man's peace another couple of seconds before risking disturbing him. But with even with the mere twitch of a movement, with surprisingly quick reflexes for a man as sick as he was, John's hand, bruised and calloused, shot out and caught Gale by the wrist. His left eye fluttered open, though was was hazy and barely seemed to register Gale with any precise focus, a pained, decidedly discontented "hm" of disapproval escaping escaping from his lungs, a glaringly uncharacteristic, vulnerable little sound that went straight to Gale's chest and dropped right on target.

It wasn't quite close enough to deep winter for the plausible deniability that it was too cold to sleep alone, but if any of the men felt at odds with the way Major Cleven slipped into Bucky's bunk that night, no one vocalised it.

The night grew into the small hours and all the others were long asleep, but Gale found it illusive, not that he was trying overly hard. A tentative hand to John's forehead came away roasted, he was still slipping in and out of consciousness, and he just couldn't bare the thought of John waking up in any way alone.

It left the door open for his mind to let in errant, sentimental thoughts, soaked in concern and set alight by his own exhaustion, and Gale shimmied a little tighter into the line of John's side, splayed his fingers against John's side and let himself be what he hoped to be a brace for the other man to lean on, rest his weariness on and let Gale take some from him.

He was there. Use him; take what he needed from him, because there was nothing Gale wouldn't give him to get him even one step further, to undo even some of the hurt that had come to him.

Gale swallowed hard. When he spoke, he hadn't even stopped to consider the words before they'd demanded to be said.

"You'll always be safe with me," Gale softly murmured but resolutely into the inch of space between his lips and John's cheek, not quite brave enough to chase the promise with a kiss, but lowering his face down into the dip of John's shoulder all the same.

He wasn't quite sure if he believed them all the way, the oppressive recognition of where they were bearing down upon him, but that didn't mean that he meant them any less.

[theside-b]

Spoilers for the novel (and my review for the Live Action) ahead :

The boys do get together, but that act ends with their break up when people find out that Tian and Wang are romantically involved, unlike in Unknown where everyone was ok with Qian and Yuan getting together in A Certain Someone the fact that they are 'brothers' plays a huge role at that stage of their relationship and the eventual demise of their first attempt at a romance. Their break up lasts 6/7 years, don't remember exactly, but its a long time...

A lot more happens, but the show made some fundamental changes to both characters. It takes A LONG time for Tian to come to terms with his own feelings, that scene where he sees his father with another man in bed tints his whole worldview from a very young age — he develops quite the internalized homophobia; he is fine with other's queerness but it's his own that he cannot accept since he sees his father sexual orientation as the reason for the destruction of his family.

There is a tense moment between Tian and his father, where his dad says "we are more alike than you care to admit" hinting that he knows of what its happening between the boys and mind you Tian is still trying to sort out what he feels for Wang. The show sugarcoats quite a lot, novel's Tian would never initiate a kiss with Wang or even play along like he did in the show, at least not at that stage of their relationship.

Speaking of which, Wang is also different in the books. In the show he reads as pretty open minded, curious about anything and everything. In the novel he's pretty straight (at first), the journey really begins as a bromance until the feelings start to change. There is a lot of push and shove between the two of them, and is veeery slow.

The show pretty much burns bright the part where Wang tears Tian's emotional walls. Which I don't mind, otherwise it would take 50 episodes to wrap the first act. I honestly thought they were going to draw an original route for the show, but they are slowly adapting elements they left behind so they can follow the book.

Now for the review:

All in all, I think the show did a good job all things considered: production began in mainland China where Liu Dong was cast, but censorship hinders lgbtqia+ productions there so pre-production moved to Taiwan and there the rest of the casting was done. It's hard to tell how much of that interfered in the script but I assume Tian's father core plot was removed in the first draft and got re-integrated once production moved to Taiwan (Chris Lee's casting was one of the last to be announced which probably means he was also one of the last to join filming). Considering that productions like The Spirealm got pulled for much less is understandable that they would avoid the more thorny subjects under China's homophobic gaze.

(Educated guess here: considering all the publicity push, I imagine either Andy Cheng or Stan Huang were the choices for Wang, but since Liu's casting was an order from one of the financial backers they got smaller roles — it's a common move in taiwanese productions — by the way, there is a 'love triangle' later, is a sad thing since there is no-way you can split the main couple, but the show made me wonder who is going to be playing the third party in the live action).

As I always say about taiwanese shows: you have to watch the live play. The On1y One is much like it's local peers, it works wonders in small doses, but as soon as you see the whole picture you start to see the cracks. It reminded me a lot of Kiseki: Dear to Me in the sense that the main couple story is the emotional backbone, with a somber approach with brief moments of humor but everything surrounding it is slightly unhinged.

Everything that happened at that school was insane. The amount of crimes committed in the school grounds was ridiculous, the fact that Qi Jia Hao didn't ended up behind bars after ordering thugs to attack Wang and assault the english teacher is crazy. The whole side-plot involving the teachers was head-scraching by the way, much like everyone else I assumed that Zhao Xi and Benny were married when they were introduced.

Imagine my surprise finding out that not only they were not married but at one point Zhao Xi thought Benny could be interested in the english teacher (speaking of her, why the hell did she sounded dubbed? Is that not her real voice?). This whole story felt so disjointed from everything else, and it came at the tail end of the season(?), so not only it took some much suspension of disbelief for me to buy that these 40-year old gays were that emotionally impaired but also demanded patience since they spent very valuable screen time which could've benefited the main couple.

That is all to say that while I was having a blast while watching, the more I stop and think about it critically the more problems I see in this show. And again, that usually happens with taiwanese productions, experienced the same with Kiseki and Unknown, two shows that I adore, flaws and all, and now the same happens with The On1y One.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Sunday morning

"Morning", she whispered in his ear as she cuddled and his eyes fluttered open. Legs tangling as she held him tightly and he groaned before slowly snapping out of his slumber.

"Morning," he said in a hoarse voice that she was getting used to and needed more than coffee first thing in the morning.

She rolled away from him and he brought her back to his chest, where she belonged, her breasts slipping from beneath the covers as her body came to rest against him again.

Skin to skin, covered in sweat and filling the air of the room with moans and dirty talk, they reinvented the meaning of the word chemistry and redefined the concept of passion as an incarnated verb.

The sun shined outside for the mortals that jumped out of bed to jog or walk their dogs that Sunday morning, which looked like any other Sunday morning in May, on this side of the world. Poor fools!

Syd and Carmy were not in the same realm as them. They were on a whole other level in that bed. They were closer to God.

After the fact, only a few minutes passed as they silently rested in each other's arms trying to calm their breathing.

This moment of calm came to an abrupt end when Syd's stomach churned.

They both looked at each other and cracked a laugh.

"Oh, I think you just earned that breakfast, chef, what do you want? Name it, I'll make it for you."

"Hmmmm... anything?"

"Anything."

"Careful Carmy, I'm very hungry..."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a warning."

Challenge accepted.

He growled, rolling her onto her back and attacking her neck in the spot he now knew drove her wild. He wedged himself between her thighs, his body ready for her instantly once again. She had that effect on him. Sometimes it only took enough time to share a cigarette before he was rock-hard once more and prepared to endure another round. Sometimes not even that long.

She giggled, pulling the sheets over their heads as his mouth descended to her breasts, making its way to her highly responsive and impossibly taut nipples and eliciting sounds from her that drove him to edge faster than any physical touch.

Her nails racked across his back, urging him on, all the while she was encouraging him to fuck her and drawing her knees up against his sides. Her fingers twined in his hair as she pulled his ear to her lips. He responded by sliding his pianist fingers desperately against her slick folds and she stiffened and gasped beneath him.

After that, the passionate haze again.

All of it was rough, sloppy, and quick, thirsty and aching, and it was over when she lifted her hips angling them so he could lose himself in her. Carmy sank down deep inside her calling her name as he choked down against her forehead letting it fly.

Moist rippled around him and a couple more of his erratic thrusts were all it took to push her over the edge. She came hard, arching her back, lifting herself in a brusque shiver, grabbing his shoulders, and biting hard on his flesh there, leaving marks he loved as her whole body trembled against him.

They knew. They always knew the other one was never far behind. They trusted their bodies and were never let down.

Carmy managed to maintain a slow and steady rhythm throughout her violent orgasm for just a moment, long enough, and then he crashed on top of her, crying out her name once again.

He didn't pull out right away. Carmy loved nothing more than to be completely encased in the tight warmth of hers. It was intoxicating.

Syd was still lost in the reverie of having rocked against the man she loved till she could feel him under her skin, throbbing, yearning, and making her whole world collapse into a perfect and breathless instant that seemed to last forever yet never lasted long enough, keeping her coming back for more. And more. And more.

When she could master the art of forming full sentences again, she insisted "I haven't forgotten, Carmy".

"What?"

"Did you really think that I was going to let you ravage my body like that if you didn't cook me breakfast later?"

"Right!"

"Chap, chap! I'm hungry."

"You're insatiable, chef!"

"You feed me too well, chef!"

"What do you say we take a quick shower first and worry about breakfast later?"

"Heard."

The water didn't do a great job of putting out the fire they had lit in the bedroom.

Shortly after, they were in the kitchen, playfully trying to cook breakfast together.

The team-building activity didn't seem to work because Syd was too hungry—a different kind of hungry. She wanted more of what only Carmy could give her.

So Carmy grabbed her with one arm and in one swift motion lifted her up and placed her over the counter. She giggled. And when he kissed her neck her giggles turned into shaky sighs.

From that strategic position between Syd's legs that were wrapped around him to keep him in place, he cooked the most delicious breakfast and they spoonfed each other.

-The kettled hummed.-

In between kisses and bites.

-The kettle hissed.-

As the world raged outside.

-The kettled whistled and the steam swirled upwards mirroring the rising temperature of the bodies to the left.-

Oblivious to the lovers who whispered soft confessions of never-ending lust in each other's ears.

A/N: Seeing as no one else gave a fuck, I did ��� inspo.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[whoreanghae]

water ; joshua hong

genre - protective shua, fake dating kinda?

word count - 1.1k

disclaimers - mentions of alcohol / being drunk, unwanted attention, lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut

a/n - just a short fic, nothing special just shua being very protective :) been finding it hard to get motivation to write lately so this is just something from the back of my brain. enjoy!!

“next rounds on you, jeonghan! i can hear my bank account crying from my pocket!!”

going out with the guys after an especially long string of promotions was the perfect way to blow off steam. they always chose the best, fanciest bars to occupy. plus, there was an added bonus that if coups gets drunk enough, you can convince him that he agreed to pay for the next round of shots.

after having a couple drinks that were definitely stronger than you anticipated, it was time for you to make your way to the restrooms. minghao stabilized you as you stood up and less than gracefully made your way to the other side of the room. when you got into the restroom, you stood and looked in the mirror. as the room spun around you, you realized that maybe your limit has diminished as you’d gotten older. you do your thing and head back out, making a stop at the bar first to get yourself a glass of water. at least drunk you was still capable of making somewhat rational decisions.

as you stood at the bar, you half fell over but caught yourself on the counter. a man walked around you, hooking his arm around your waist and holding you up. you didnt think twice, assuming it was one of the guys just helping you out. but, as you looked towards the table they were all sitting around, the only empty seat was your own. now you’re filled with confusion and discomfort. you try to pull yourself away but the man tightens his grip on your side. 

“now now, we both know you’re not as stable as you think you are.”

you try to make your voice as stable as possible as you make an attempt at pushing him away or getting someones attention, whichever you can manage first.

“im fine, please let me go.”

the man leans closer until you hear a voice from his opposite side whichs makes his arms tense, but slightly release you at the same time.

“babe, everything ok?”

joshua?

“not really..”

joshua steps closer to the man who has now completely let go of your waist. he lowers his tone and his voice becomes raspy and powerful as he speaks.

“i don’t want to sound like a douche or anything, but i can have you kicked out of here faster than you could leave on your own accord. so i would suggest that you make a decision before i have to.”

the man mutters apologies to shua as he steps back and hurriedly leaves the bar. at this point, you are completely depending on the counter to hold you up. shua puts a (much more welcoming) arm around you, making you feel secure. you lean into him with your head on his shoulder as the bartender comes over and shua asks him for a glass of water. the bartender hands him the glass as the two of you make your way back to the table. the guys shift down so you can take the seat next to joshua, and you sink into his side as he feeds you the glass of water.

at this point your night had been ruined, and the guys noticed that too. shua offers to take you home which you gladly accept. you both say goodbye to everyone as you head outside and find a bench to sit on while you wait for your taxi to show up. you babble into shua’s shoulder as he scrolls on his phone.

“thank you, shua.”

“hm?”

he put his phone in his pocket as he turns his full attention to you.

“thank you for getting that man to go away.”

“i knew you were uncomfortable, i just did what anyone else shouldve done.”

“but this is better.. cuz its you…” 

shua chuckles as he rubs your arm, making you snuggle further into his side. when the taxi comes, joshua practically carries you to the car. you settle in and he makes quiet small talk with the driver as you slowly fall asleep on his shoulder.

when you get to your apartment, you pass shua your keys and rub your eyes while he unlocks the door and ushers you inside. he picks out your pajamas as you sit on your bed, watching his every move. he passes you your clothes as he leaves the room to let you get dressed.

you call out for him to come back in when youre in your pajamas, and he passes you another glass of water. you groan but he laughs as you take the glass anyways. he grabs your makeup remover wipes from your bathroom and sits on your bed next to you, lifting your legs and moving you to face him. his hands are warm.

when you’re all ready for bed, you crawl under the covers and watch as he puts everything back in its place. he makes everything look beautiful, elegant. even the simplest of motions are incredible when it’s shua. he pulls out his phone to book another cab to his place, but you sit up half way in your bed.

“shu?”

“yeah?”

“maybe it’d be cheaper if you didn’t get a taxi tonight and i could take you home tomorrow?”

“are you suggesting i stay here tonight?”

you give him a pleading smile as you pull back the covers and he playfully rolls his eyes. most of the guys have left miscellaneous clothes items at your house from other occasions, so he digs through the drawer and finds some pajamas to change into. when he comes back into the room, you watch him again. beautiful. thats the only word to describe him.

he slides into the covers and smiles at you as he leans over you and turns off the lamp on your bedside table. the night fades away, as you both fall asleep after mumbled ‘goodnight’s into the dark. 

when you wake up, the bed is empty. you stumble out of bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in the right side of your head. the smell of breakfast enters your nose, as you get to the kitchen and see shua cooking at the stove. you walk to him and rest your cheek on his back. 

“good morning, party animal.”

his eyes are fond as he gestures to the counter behind the two of you, where he has two ibuprofen and a glass of water sitting out, ready for you. 

“another glass of water, ive never been so hydrated in my life.”

shua laughs.

“thats not a bad thing, is it?”

he walks towards you and looks into your eyes as you drink all the water and lay the glass down with a smile.

“no, not at all.”

[msbunnat]

I can't understand how someone could look at hera (esp your design of her) and cheat.like HOW did Zeus fumble the wife? And the fact she hasn't divorced him.like home girl you can find a loyal man

So! Lets go another big reply ;w;

We first need to understand that ancient greek marriage was a totally diferent thing them now days. It was based in class, power and agreement with your partner. In some contexts it was totally normal the husband have comcubines and affairs with slaves, as well as in pederasty the act of intimacy was not seen as cheating because it was with education proporse.

Zeus and Hera were the perfec couple, they loved each other and both were the ideal of marriage. Zeus love Hera and had his ways basically, because he was a man and this behavior was normalized; and Hera love and was loyal to Zeus and her role in the marriage was also to protect their position as king and queen.

I'm still a little lost, like there re some pieces that I still havent figured out. But today I found out that pre-colonial Hera once was marriade to Heracles (my theory is that Heracles marry Hebe in post-colonial helenims because she is a side of Hera - as the young bride - it makes sense to me that before marriage you re a bride). This helped me to finally decide on some aspects for my comic.

I will be honest and probably wrong, BUT, I think Zeus was also loyal to Hera in the misoginistc context that was the myths we have found, because he never replaced her. This super wrong saying that "the guy can have other lovers, but he always return to you." Its also good to remember that Zeus affairs were also methaforical and with more meaning tham a mortal one! And when I remmeber that he also had divorces before Hera in some versions (its said he had six wives), make me belive in their relationship. They both can divorce, but they dont want to. Its hard to accept it today and this is amazing, but before.... it was just how things probably worked. Not to mention a lot of myth saying how they were the perfect couple and they loved each other to much. We can joke about it and all now, i dont mind that, but sometimes its good to remember where all this stories came from, context matter so much to understand ancient gods. I had difficult to finally change my mind and see that they really loved eacht other, if they were a now days couple, Zeus probably would spread goodness in other ways. But on ancient times, this method was okay back them and used on myths to tell a lot about marriage, how to deal with potencial thread to the throne, how behave as wife.

EDIT: even now days gorgeus women re cheated! Way more beautiful and charming them their partners, because beauty has nothing to do with cheating. This behavior is a lot more complex to resume, but I will say its basically other power play where the one cheating probably feel good about doing a 'bad' thing and a lot of other possible reasons...

I think this is one of my worst english texts, so if no one understand it........ sorry kkkkkk I try again tomorrow maybe -w-

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

In the Night | Mingyu Drabble

tags: fluff, just pure fluff, college boyfriend Mingyu, non-idol!au

Not proofread!

masterlist | Let me know your thoughts and feedback.

You’ve known Mingyu for less than three months. The two of you met accidentally as you tried to grab the same textbook from the uni library and ended up studying together for a class you hadn’t realised you had together.

Mingyu was everything you have looked for in a guy- he’s soft, careful, funny, respectful, emotionally intelligent and hot, oh so hot! You knew since day 1 that it was a steep slope falling for him and it took you all your energy to stop yourself.

Every morning you’d give yourself the biggest pep talk about not falling for this giant little puppy of a man and he would say or do something that would make your heart flip into fifteen different pieces. A gentle “are you okay” when he can see you stressed out or a thoughtful donut he gets you if he knows you’ve been working hard. Even the way he shyly accepts you’re lunch when you bring extra for him has you’re heart melting. And when he cooks for you, you’re heart explodes into a million pieces and only his food can piece it back together to form a beautiful rose in place of the thorns you had in your heart.

Mingyu was right, the both of you were right. But you didn’t know if he knew this. You didn’t want to assume he knew this. Mingyu openly gives love to all his friends, you’ve seen it countless times. He just was a loving person. So it was very easy to assume you read the signs all wrong.

That’s why you did all you could to keep your heart and head in check. After the first month there was no denying that you’d fallen for him, it was pointless to lie to yourself. But you still tried you level best to keep the little infatuation in check (you failed but you want to be in denial about that for as long as possible).

Repeating the “Mingyu might only see you as a friend” mantra has worked till now, pretty well. But it is slowly failing you, especially today, as you both sit on the bench near the pier watching the Han river and the Seoul city skyline. As the sun sets and the chilly winds take its place along with the pink violet hues of the sky, Mingyu slowly shifted from his initial position on the other end of the bench to sitting close enough for your shoulders to brush.

“I’m cold.” Was his excuse and honestly you were slightly cold too and did not mind the warmth emanating from him at the moment.

You find yourself sighing at the peaceful sight in front of you. From your peripheral vision you can see Mingyu’s mouth curved in a pretty soft smile. You liked it when he looked peaceful and at that moment he looked legitimately ethereal.

Mingyu moving closer to you unleashed a confidence you’ve been suppressing for months. You give into the bliss of the view and slowly lean on him. You didn’t realise what you’d done until you feel your head touches his shoulder. It feels warm. You can feel the bones and muscles beneath his jacket when you lay your head.

You stay still for a couple seconds, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t move, in fact he is stiff as stone for a whole minute. A big part of your head if balding like a police siren but your heart feels good.

One minute or an eternity passes, the concept of time is not your priority now. But after a few beats you feel it. The muscular arm that comes around your shoulder. The hands that pause a second above your shoulder and eventually is placed there. The warmth that coursed through your body when you’re slowly pushed further into Mingyu’s chest.

Then you hear him sigh-not a painful, tried sigh of exhaustion but one of pure content. The smile that forms on your face feels as natural as breathing.

Mingyu and you have spent a lot of time together in the last three months- in the same physical space and otherwise too. But you’ve never been close physically. A random side-hug here and a handshake there when you meet or part ways for the day was the usual physical contact.

This was a domain neither of you’d planned on exploring and it felt good. It felt surprisingly amazing considering you’ve never been one for physical contact. In all of your existence you’ve never initiated or accepted physical contact from anyone expect your mother. This felt new.

New, exciting and comforting.

You expected your heart to race in a million directions but for once it felt like you’re heart was home.

“Thank you.”

Mingyu’s voice comes out so softly and silent that you almost miss it. You try to lean back and turn to look at him but he holds you still with his arms. You crane your neck to look at him, doing your best to contain the smile and blush creeping up your cheeks.

“For what?”

He looks down at you, his eyes glistening glimmering like re beautiful night sky filled with a thousand stars.

“For trusting me enough to be… here.” He looks at his arms around you and back at your face. You can see the tinge of red on his face too. He’s definitely biting on his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

But when you smile at him fully he also breaks into a full shy and happy smile.

This makes you take the leap. And so in an instant you throw your hands around his neck and he is thrown aback. But mingyu is smart enough to come back to senses immediately and move his hands to your waist as he slowly pulls you into his lap.

The sensible part of your brain is screaming that it’s a public space and this is Mingyu and you might’ve just ruined your friendship. But tonight you choose to be an idiot. So does Mingyu apparently.

The both of you stay in the embrace for a couple the. You soaking in his scent and warmth, and him breathing you in.

He pulls back to look at your face. He studies your face and the blush that creeps up on your face make you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He says as he lifts your chin up with one finger and you open your eyes to see him.

Mingyu smiles, you smile.

“Hi.” He sounds breathless.

“Hi.” You’re voice drips of anticipation and shyness

“Is this real?” He looks nervous. You chuckle as he bites into his lips.

“It is for me.” His grip on your waist gets slightly tighter and you’re flush against him. Holding your breath as you wait for his verbal response.

“Took you long enough.”

Mingyu laughs and it reverberates in your soul.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in public…” you suggest meekly. You’re scared he’s going to think you are a pervert and moving too ahead of yourself.

“Yeah sure.” Mingyu smiles his million-dollar smile. “Don’t worry, we can do this however we want it. No pressure.”

His words make you want to cry because how can one human be so understanding and kind. But instead you smile and give him a tight hug before you get up and offer your hand to him.

Mingyu beams at you from his place on the bench, his eyes are wet now.

“Is everything alright Gyu?”

“Never better angel.”

What are organs for if they don’t melt at everything this gorgeous, kind golden retriever of a man says and does!

[pennyserenade]

how was small things like these ( plus what was a particularly resonating scene for you )

hey nonie! thank you so much for these questions! to put it simply: small things like these was incredible. cillian's acting is quiet, but at the same loud and powerful, and the story is an incredibly poignant one. there really was no man more correct to carry billy furlong's troubles than cillian murphy himself. i ended up watching small things two days after the us election, and in the movie theater there were two older women -- one probably in her late 60s, the other her early 70s -- along with my best friend and i. sometimes i think the setting in which you watch a movie can influence how you feel about the film, and i do believe that was the case for me. i really felt it at some parts, so much that i did cry one or two times. and, the more i've thought about it in the days since, the more i've come to like it.

the movie itself is so, so quiet. there's nothing outwardly loud about it: not the conversations, not the characters, not the town, not the violence or the oppression, not even the thinly-veiled threats made by sister mary. it is evident from the very first seconds of the movie that it is going to be quiet but intense, and it is. its a whisper in the shape of a film, and heavy in the way that all terrible, too long silences have a way of being. there were a couple of scenes that resonated with me in it (and i know you only asked for one, but that's so hard):

the scene where bill discovers the girl in the coal shed again, and sister mary brings him into her office, where they then bring in the girl and have her make up some implausible story about how she was in there because they were playing hide and seek and she was locked in by the other girls.

the scene at the bar, where the barmaid urges bill not to say anything about what they're doing with those girls at the convent, because 'they have a finger in every pie.'

namely, they resonated with me because i think a lot of people do this now, for the sake of sanity, for the sake of 'keeping the peace': they brush big things under the rug, unwilling to talk about them in fear of the mess they will make of their own lives, and of other's lives. in another stunning cillian film that i watched, called the wind that shakes the barley, one of the characters says something along the lines of: it is easy to know what you stand against, but quite another thing to know what you stand for. it is evident that this town, quiet as it is, feels the weight of what is being down to these girls. they don't all condone it happily. but they accept it, because it is easier and safer, and they want this man (bill), who has witnessed it first hand, to not make a fuss of it. he has girls that go to the school run by these nuns, and doesn't he want them to have a good future? a much better future than the girl who gets locked in the shed, because she made the foolish mistake to get knocked up?

the office scene was unbearable to me. what with the way sister mary was all but saying: keep yourself out of this, bill. think of your young daughters and their futures. and then sister mary offered the pregnant girl up to bill, still shivering and traumatized from what had just been inflicted upon her, and she made the girl tell bill this story that was so obviously concocted for her by the other nuns. the girl couldn't even deliver it with any real conviction, and the nuns thought that would be enough for bill, because it had been enough for decades, fr centuries, for eons. it still was enough for everyone else in the town who knew what was happening, but who couldn't afford to say anything about it. they offered up this poor girl to bill so he could sweep it all under the rug, so that if, many years down the road he was feeling guilty about not having done anything, he could remember that there was nothing to be done: because it was nothing. because it was a cruel game of hide and seek. because he didn't know. because his girls. because of the money sister mary hands him at the end for his wife, eileen. because eileen, who knows they are not one of the families who can afford to make a fuss about this, either, and has begged him not to. because, because, because. and you can see how he is struggling with the weight of that: how he is standing between saying nothing and helping. it is haunting, the way he sits there and watches that unfold, trapped.

when the bar scene came along, i was already successfully broken up in bits, but there was something about the choice of music in that scene that has stayed with me. the town in small things like these, and the people within the town, all seemed quaint to me. without the occasional '80's music or very obvious '80's outfit in the film, i do believe that you could successfully be convinced that the story being told is one set in times of old: the '40s, the '50s, the '60s. these are times in which you aren't unaccustomed to these horror stories happening. but in the scene where the barmaid pulls bill aside - before she shuts the door and the scene goes quiet - the song don't you want me by the human league plays. the extravagant, flashy sound of the 1980s is jarring at this point in the film. it so odd as to almost feel like an anachronism, and it brings the audience to the horrific realization that this isn't one of the decades in which we expect these horror stories to come from: it is 1985. in america, twelve years prior to this, women in america got national access to abortions with roe v. wade. in 1972, women in america got widespread access to birth control. in the 1930s, condoms became widely used and available to them. people in ireland weren't even allowed to buy condoms in ireland until 1985.

this scene resonated terribly with me, an american in 2024, because i sat there, as a 23 year old woman, recognizing i now lived in a time where roe v. wade had been overturned and my country had elected the man who allowed it to happen once again. earlier that day i had seen a post where a man had said 'your body, my choice' about women. when that woman asked bill not to say a thing he had seen, for the sake of his own daughters, i ached for them and i ached for me, and i ached for all the people who will look back on this time in history, horrified because it didn't happen in the distant past; because it was a thing of the present. because it is a thing of the present.

anyway, please, please watch the film and tell me what you think.

[khaibdl]

Hiii

Can i request a james hetfield smut where the reader and james have a kind of a "forbidden relationship" but the story has a good ending and lots of fluff ???

*P.s. Love your ficssss

•𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄•

Genre: Smut & Fluff

Warnings: Smut (language, unprotected sex, oral x male receiving, age gap).

Word count: 995

•

It is not okey.

I’ve been working for Metallica for the last couple of months as their “Tour Stylist”.

I have to make sure the guys have their clothes ready, its the right size and gets to the dry cleaner.

I love my job but i’ve also been loving something else or better yet… someone else.

James Hetfield.

We immediately had a connection when i first met him. He just got divorced and i broke up with my boyfriend who i was with for two years.

Im 34 and James is 60… i know its a big age gap but when its genuine, it doesn’t matter right?

Right?

Only his bandmates know and some of the other crew members but his kids and the public don’t know yet. And we want to keep it that way. Even though he’s finding it extremely difficult to keep this secret from his kids. But he’s scared.

Scared that they won’t accept it because of our age gap. And are they even ready yet to see their dad with someone else?

•••

“Of course, sweetheart. Everything for you.” I feel his big hand resting on my naked thigh as i am wearing a dress.

“Can you stay at mine’s for a while or are your kids home?” I don’t want our night to end yet since im really having a fun date night.

“I told them that i was in the studio so they can miss me for a while.” He turns his head, smirking at me and i know exactly what he’s thinking…

“Well, then i’ll have to keep you good company, right?” I move my hand to his lap, teasing him over his jeans.

I repeatedly kiss his cheek and neck as he has to focus on the road in front of him. My hands are unbuckling his leather belt and he has both of his hands at the steering wheel now.

“Sweetheart, don’t tease me.” He mutters softly.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, i set myself on my knees on the seat, facing James now. I bend my head down towards his lap and grab his cock out of his jeans.

My hands go up and down his cock as i spit on it, making sure its all wet and ready for me.

I hear James groan from above me when i finally put his cock in my mouth. I keep bobbing my head and use my hands, hoping to get him to release quickly.

I keep going like that for a few minutes until i finally feel his cum shoot right in my mouth. I make sure that i sucked every drop before lifting my head up again to look right in his blue eyes.

I now notice that we arrived at my front porch.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart.” James buckles his belt again before opening his car door. “I’m gonna make you feel good now.”

•••

James his hips keeps slapping against mine from on top of me. He is so deep inside of me right now, I can’t even speak anymore. I can only keep moaning.

“You’re doing so good for me.” One of his hands grabbing one of my tits and his other, stroking my hair.

My nails are scratching his back from all the pleasure that he’s giving me. He keeps pounding at a hard pace, making me shut my eyes.

“Jamie! I can’t anymore!” I moan loudly as he is giving me my third orgasm of the night. For a man his age, he still is extremely good in bed, it’s insane.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” James keeps repeating to me, making me eventually open my eyes. One arm of mine finding the back of his neck to bring his face to mine so i can kiss his lips passionately.

We’re nearing our orgasm, again, as we keep on kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths.

My bed is literally pounding against my wall. I won’t be surprised if there’s a hole in it by now.

“Jamie, i’m fucking cuming!” I scream while my legs start to shake, softly, around his hips. “Oh, i love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

James groans as he cums. Thank God that i’m on the pill. Otherwise i would probably be pregnant with triplets by now. Joking.

•••

“James, please tell me you’re kidding.” I say on the phone.

James left last night before his kids would ask why he’s not home yet. But he woke me up with a phone call this morning. I thought it was would be happy, hearing his voice, but right now? I just want to disappear.

“It’s okey. I’m gonna talk to my kids now and afterwards, i will be at yours.” He hears me getting emotional. “Please don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

Apparently, the paparazzi was following us last night and took pictures of us in the restaurant AND in the car… I’ve never been so embarrassed in my whole life.

Especially because his kids found out about our relationship this way. What will they think of me right now? I probably won’t wanna know.

After a few hours, James enters my home with my spare key. He sees my sitting on my couch, underneath a big, fluffy blanket. He sits down next to me and hugs me tightly.

“What did they say?” My question muffled by his leather jackets as were hugging.

“I explained everything and they understand. Obviously they didn’t want to find out the way they did but it’s okey.” He grabs my face and kisses my lips softly. “They want to meet you.”

“Seriously?” I ask him hopeful.

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay. Just trust me.” He makes sure i heard him before bringing me into his chest again.

This is literally the best man i could ever ask for.

•••

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐈𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭!

𝐁𝐭𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐢 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐢🖤

[slashingdisneypasta]

Wheezy Weasel x Younger!Reader || Drabble

Plot: That 🔼🔼🔼

Warnings: Age difference + smoking + smuttiness. Unedited.

Tagging: @astridflo , @disney-android-foundation , @marinerainbow , @moxiiscool .

You loved him. Or you were obsessed with him. Or both. You knew that, for sure. You just never knew... if he felt the same. He kept his feelings very close to the vest; worried you were so young and he was a fucking creep.

Maybe he was, he was already a thug anyway, but you sure didn't care. In fact the sooner that the old bastard came to terms with being a creep, the better for you.

So no, despite your feelings (Your very obvious feelings, that you don't even attempt to hide from anyone, least of all him), you were not a couple. Still though, you often found yourself hanging all over him late at night, after the other weasels have all gone to bed. Your legs spread across his thighs, or leaning against him, or fully sat in lap. For some reason... he never complains. There was a silent understanding, even if one of you was tired, you would stay up and watch TV together; and pretend it was by coincidence.

Tonight you're particularly tired, feeling foggy and affectionate. It had been a long day and all you could think about now was Wheezy; you wanted to cuddle up to him and stay there for as long as possible; you didn't even care about the smell. After you absentmindedly watch Greasy, the last one to go off to bed, your gaze shifts over to Wheezy looking handsome as hell- as always- smoking a couple cig's tucked between his teeth so the grey smoke puffs slowly, softly upwards towards the ceiling in warm billows. His eyes seem to glow dangerously behind it, watching TV even though he knows you're watching. You always liked that.

"... hey Wheezy?" You ask, shifting across the couch and gently laying your legs over his lap, and wrapping your arms around one of his. This causes him to sigh through grit teeth, because god forbid he let the cigarettes go for a second, and relax under your touch almost immediately. Like he cant help it. You like that, too. You never miss it; you always make sure to watch, when you touch him.

"Yeh?"

"How come you smoke?"

At this he glances down at you, scary luminescent crystalline hues gliding down your body and- oh. Thats unexpected. He- did he really just- Yes, he actually did.

Your cheeks warm up as he shrugs, turning back to the TV. "What can I say? Keeps my mouth and my hands busy. 'therwise I start sayin' things I shouldn't. Doin'... uh, things, I shouldn't."

"Well- do you think you'll ever stop smoking?"

"Babygirl, I'll stop this fucken second, if you gimmie a better use for my hands and mouth." As soon as he says that your eyes light up and you part your lips to respond- but he beats you to it. Realises what he said. "Oh, fuck. Listen, I didn't mean it that way. Yer too young, y' know that. I could be yer grandpa. Thats that."

Immediately your face falls, even though he sounds more like he's telling himself. Even though he likes you hanging off him. Even though he stays up to be with you. Against all the evidence, because its always this way. He never wants to take the last little step; he's a coward.

You're not even that young, you think, frustrated. Just because he's an old man... A pout appears on your face and when he glances at you, and sees it on your cute lips, it breaks something in him.

You only know it when he turns suddenly towards you and flicks his burning cigarettes into the ash tray on the coffee table. " -'then again, I could be a fucken idiot."

"Wh- "

His lips slam into yours and you release a whimper on impact, parting your lips immediately for him and accepting his experienced tongue into your mouth for the first time. His hands fall down your body, guiding you to lay down and wrap your legs around him- one at a time. Dragging your right leg over his hip and then the left. When you're all wrapped around him you can feel how hard he is for you. Fuck. He must've been like that the whole time.

His lips glide down over your chin and over your throat, leaving hot firm kisses all along the way, and talking gruffly against your skin between every touch; his fingers in your hair holding you still. "Look. what you fucken. did now. Kid. Made me a scumbag. Like Grease. Well," His lips graze gently back upwards, over your lips. When he doesn't immediately kiss you again you have to force your eyes to crack open. See him looking sternly at you; almost scary but it only makes you feel hotter, more light headed. "Now I'm all yours. Your-fucken-problem. Congrats." He says it like its a penalty. A punishment, somehow, instead of what you wanted. "'lright?"

He was asking you one last time. Giving you one last Out.

Goddamnit, this man!-

Instead of answering that stupid question, you lean up and kiss him deeply. "Take me now... "

"Jesus."

[britcision]

Okay so… today is a little bit of a long one, so we’ll see if we’re back at Tumblr breaking length or juuuust on the right side

But! Finally, much anticipated, we have the man himself: John Constantine! Here to share secrets and save the day! (Not)

And! This chapter got us right up to the edge, next chapter is gonna push me over to one MILLION words on AO3 y’all!! I’ve been flirting with it the past couple years but finally we’re here!

So. Might push the next one out faster. Might slow the next one down, since we’re in heavy waters again. And, since we are in the heavy waters, Imma tag on some warnings:

1) we gonna be speculating a little more on Jason’s death in this one, from a couple of viewpoints. We’re also discussing Cass’s in particular, and its repercussions.

No gore or details, just some death themes, mostly from Jason’s perspective after he and Danny leave the manor (Jason’s second POV segment)

2) Bruce is gonna make some very bad decisions about stimulants and concussions, mostly off screen but it is mentioned at the end of our first Bruce POV segment

And now the links!

First and link to AO3:

Previous:

———————

Never Make A Promise You Can’t Keep

Constantine hadn’t been looking forward to discussing Amity Park with the Justice League. Not the first time he’d been sent, and not for a single second after.

But hours turned into days, days to weeks, weeks to years. He’d almost thought he’d gotten away with it and that they wouldn’t ask.

Which was probably what had gotten the big Bat’s fuckin’ attention, wasn’t it. Couldn’t possibly let the universe have something nice for Johnny Constantine.

Luckily it was damn hard to lose something in the House of Mystery unless the House wanted it lost. Today she was feeling merciful and gave him the book on the second try.

It’d have been nice if he needed to refresh his memory of the case. If the knowledge of Amity Park hadn’t been sitting like a weight on his awareness since before he’d been.

Honestly he could probably point to it from anywhere on Earth. Most magic users could, if they had the faintest alignment with death.

Amity Park was goddamn wrong, even if it looked like things had turned out alright for now. Still, there were types of wrong you didn’t poke at.

Going prodding around would only make things worse.

And now he had to go explain that to Captain Prod himself, and try and persuade the fuckin’ Batman that no news was good news.

At least the Superboys had listened when he told them to clear off until he could visit in person. They’d pinky sworn they were back in Metropolis, and he’d heard enough traffic to believe them.

They could just as easily fly straight back to Alaska, but they weren’t stupid. They knew how to listen.

(Possibly from trauma related to the times Young Justice hadn’t listened to him, but he’d take what he could get.)

Now he just had to persuade the Bat that he knew what he was talking about.

Constantine hated debriefings with Batman. The guy had no grasp of magic, which was perfectly fair for most folks.

He preferred that. It kept them out of his kind of trouble, meant he didn’t have to worry about them until it got bad enough they’d accept whatever snapped sentence he managed.

Batman though. Batman treated magicians like it was their fault that the world didn’t work the way he personally preferred. Like they had any say in the how and why of magic.

Asshole.

And now he wanted to scold John like a naughty child about something he had no way to understand. Well, fuck that.

For better or worse, the Justice League made Amity Park his problem. Years late or not, this was his show, and he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.

Thumbing quickly through the book, he kinda hated how easily it fell open to the relevant page. Like he’d already spent way too long looking.

Even he didn’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Not if he could help it.

Stuffing in his notes from the city itself he closed the book, left the House, and hurried to one of the closer zeta tubes. Didn’t matter which city he was spat out in, he could find one.

His number didn’t coax even a flicker of the usual dry amusement as he stepped out into the bat cave, scowling up at the massive screen.

League records. Great. He strode across the floor, hoping they could sort this crap out fast.

“What the fuck’s got you lookin’ into Amity Park?” He asked as the Bat turned to face him, book tucked under his arm.

None of his usual prevaricating or fucking around. No chance for the fucker to try his usual “control the conversation” shit.

If it had any effect whatsoever, it didn’t show. Damn white outs. Batman just stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the computer, pulling up another page.

Constantine didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.

“Why did you mark Amity Park as a prank?” The big Bat asked in his stupid, gravelly tones.

Constantine rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mark it as a fuckin’ prank, I marked it as a no fly zone for your little lot, so again: what the fuck came out of Amity Park?”

Batman stilled for a moment, doing that annoying “human computer” bit again. John preferred each and every one of the actual cyborgs, even the ones that tried to kill him.

Then he turned back, swivelling the chair around to fully face John like a movie super villain. Asshole.

“Over two thousand legitimate cries for help came out of Amity Park, and were ignored. If they were marked for the Justice League Dark, you should have responded, not deleted them.”

And that sounded way too much like an accusation. And completely fuckin’ irrelevant.

Something deeply unpleasant was tugging at the edge of Constantine’s awareness, just below the irritation he scraped over the sense of impending doom he’d been ignoring for the last hour.

He pushed it down, scowling at Bruce as he crossed the last of the distance and slammed the book down on the table next to the keyboard, gesturing up at the screens.

Still not bothering to look. He didn’t want to fuckin’ know.

“Years ago, Batty. This could be time fuckin’ sensitive, so quit pissing me about an’ tell me what. Exactly. Got you looking into Amity Park.”

There was a moment of hesitance, and he just fucking hated that. Nothing that made Batman hesitate could possibly be… good.

The feeling at the back of his mind suddenly clicked. His eyes widened and he groaned, wishing he had something stronger than a cigarette. Maybe a bullet.

“Great. Just fuckin’ great. They’re here.”

Groping around behind him, he grabbed another swivel chair and folded down into it, elbows bracing on the desk and burying his face in his hands.

Well, this was the nightmare situation.

From the fucking death taint seeping into his fuckin’ skin, something extremely fuckin’ big had oozed its way out of the Realms, and settled itself in Gotham.

Batman’s attention had snapped to, the man suddenly alert and watchful as Constantine slumped.

One hand dove into a pocket for the carton of cigarettes, Bat Cave rules be damned. Not much fuckin’ point, but he wasn’t doing this sober, and his flask was too small.

For once the Bat didn’t comment as he flicked the lighter open, lit up, and took a long drag. Just focused that laser stare on Constantine’s face.

At least he’d grasped the gravity of the matter.

“What is here?” The Bat finally asked when it became clear Constantine wasn’t elaborating, sounding annoyed.

Constantine took another drag of his smoke. Some days nicotine just wasn’t enough.

“Start from the beginning, Bats. Tell me everything that led up to you lookin’ into Amity Park, and everything you found since,” he demanded, hoping there was still a point to asking.

“If this is time sensitive, Constantine, you need to tell me what is happening,” Batman growled, tensed like he wanted to leap out of his chair and loom like one of his fuckin’ gargoyles.

The bat sounded cranky. Fuck him.

Constantine fixed him with a level stare.

“Then you’d better get fuckin’ talking, hadn’t you? I need to know how fuckin’ bad it is before I know first steps.”

Batman hesitated a moment longer, then turned back to his computer.

“I can summon the League-”

“No time,” Constantine cut him off acerbically, shaking his head, “and might make shit worse. Just fuckin’… report. Gimme yer damn report.”

For all that the Bat loved paperwork, loved to bury them all in bureaucracy, he dithered another moment before nodding, pulling up…

Well lookie there, he already had a literal report typed up. Great.

Taking another long drag of his cigarette Constantine leaned back in the chair and scanned the document.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Or the extra details he could already tell he’d need, that had prompted the dull and clinical report.

**

Jason had tensed as Danny did. First because of the sudden alertness he could feel in Danny’s aura, even reduced back down to conversational levels.

(And that had been fun. The more times he felt Danny’s aura wrapped around him, the longer he spent with his chest tight and Danny’s presence right down to his lungs…

He felt cold when it went away. Almost lonely, surrounded by people. Fucking ancients help him, he was getting used to it.)

Was that what it’d feel like if he felt that Danny was in danger? A rush of adrenaline?

It was a little weird being so in tune with someone, but not in a bad way. Danny didn’t seem upset, just suddenly on guard in a way that the whole table noticed.

On guard, and… amused. And then he spoke and Jason tensed again.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

Danny could sense John Constantine. That was… Really not the strangest thing, but it didn’t mean Jason had to like it.

If Danny could sense Constantine, could Constantine sense Danny? Jason wasn’t sure if he should ask in public.

Tim had way less reservations.

“Wait, what do you mean? What just happened?” He asked, breaking away from Tucker for a moment. But at least Tucker also looked confused.

Danny shook his head, chuckling softly and finishing up his food.

“Oh, sorry. It’s Sad Trenchcoat Guy,” he added for Sam and Tucker’s benefit, both of whom relaxed like that actually meant something.

Sam was back in her original clothes now, although Jason hadn’t given her the thermos back yet. Once her parents arrived, maybe.

Jason stifled a snicker, along with most of the Gothamites. It was a pretty accurate description of Constantine.

“Still in the dark over here,” Duke put in, a slight frown on his face.

Danny shrugged again and grinned at him.

“It’s kinda a ghost thing. I can sense other ghosts, or certain kinds of magic users. Constantine came to Amity Park not that long after I died,” he explained casually.

Tim and Dick shared meaningful looks behind Tucker’s head, and Jason stifled another chuckle. They thought they were so discrete.

Dick leaned in again, arms folded on the table as he gave Danny his best innocent interest.

“Oh? That’s kinda weird, do you know why?” He asked casually. Not questioning where Danny thought John was now.

He wanted to try and lead them away from the topic, probably. Too bad for him, if he’d asked he might have gotten some idea of how far Danny’s power stretched.

He’d explained to Jason about his aura covering most of the city, although he hadn’t claimed it as his haunt. But if Dickie didn’t want to know, Jason wouldn’t tell.

Sam fielded the question, rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

“We thought he might have come to help, since that was around when the ghost attacks started. He didn’t though,” she added bitterly, and Danny kicked her under the table.

“We don’t actually know why he came,” he explained, giving Dick a half smile, “he never talked to us. He did talk to some of the other ghosts though.”

“Wait, you can just do that?” Steph asked, her brows furrowed. Whether she was playing civilian or actually wasn’t sure, Jason wouldn’t put a bet on.

The amount most of the bat clan knew about magic and ghosts used to be that Jason was a zombie.

Which, as it turned out, was wrong.

Danny gave her a blank look, then shrugged again.

“I mean, yeah? You literally can just go ask half the time, but he was doing some fancy stuff. Binding circles and demanding truth, that kinda shit,” he added, making a face.

“He wasn’t popular among the living either,” Tucker agreed with a snicker. “Lotta weird questions for people, and no answers. We figured he was one of those occult nuts.”

“That’d explain the binding circles and truth thing,” Duke agreed with a solemn nod, folding his own arms. Honestly, watching them all play civilian was kinda adorable.

Tucker hesitated a moment, then shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

“I mean, you’ve got me there. But he never tried to get anywhere near the fights, and then one day he just vanished. We got a ton more weird tourists for a while, but he was the weirdest,” he finished with relish.

Sam snorted again, clearly still annoyed about the whole mess. Maybe she’d been the one who actually wanted help.

Danny hadn’t mentioned how he felt about it yet, and Jason hadn’t asked, but they’d all been abandoned. Fucking Jason wasn’t happy about it.

“He was the only one who actually knew what he was doing,” she huffed, scowling at the table. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “So if he’s in Gotham, I’m gonna call it a bad sign.”

Privately, Jason was tempted to agree with her. John Constantine was a danger magnet, and Jason was half tempted to go and have a word himself.

Word in the Bat Chat was that Constantine was why Danny had never gotten any backup before. Danny himself might not be looking to start a fight over it, but Jason had Opinions on teen heroes.

And the adults who should have been protecting them.

Not with Bruce around though. He’d have to wait and see if Constantine stayed in town.

It’d give him time to ask Danny about the suddenly constant undercurrent of suppressed laughter he could feel.

**

In the bat cave, Constantine squinted at the picture Batman had pulled up from the gala. Not exactly the best picture on earth, but it was clear enough to tell. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, could be worse,” he decided, tossing aside his second cigarette butt. The report had been complete, he’d give old Bats that, and he’d even been allowed to smoke through it.

But a black gloved hand covered his when he reached for the pack again.

Fucker.

Constantine let it slide for now, raising both hands in surrender and then pointing at the screen.

“Looks like you’ve got the halfa. Not bad news, as it goes. He’s at least still half human, which is probably why your precious city’s still intact.”

He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if another ghost tried to set up a haunt in Gotham. The old girl’s Curse would have something to say about it.

Batman didn’t look noticeably reassured though.

“Enough stalling, Constantine. What is this all about? What happened in Amity Park?” He demanded roughly, and Constantine was grudgingly impressed.

Seemed like that ol’ bat hyper focus was going to win out over even a threat to his own city. Or he hadn’t been fully listening.

No bet.

Constantine sighed again, gesturing to the screen.

“You got a ley line map somewhere on this thing?” He asked, mostly just to annoy the bat a little further. Not like he wasn’t gonna give him the answers.

Batman hesitated for a moment, then set to typing. Probably… yup, going into the JL Dark files. Zatanna kept a helpful reference folder for the mundanes.

Constantine didn’t think they needed any more help than they asked for, but she’d been right this time and he owed her a beer for it. A second later the map was on screen.

Constantine nodded again, pointing to the general area of Illinois.

“Pull up Amity Park on that map,” he instructed, wheeling his chair back out of reach to pull out a third cigarette.

Both got him an annoyed frown from old Batsy.

“What is this supposed to mean?” He asked in the old gravelly growl, the map already obediently zooming in.

Constantine lit his smoke and waved at the screen again.

“Y’know what ley lines are?” He asked back, watching the map scroll around.

Not one with a search function then. Batsy’d have to find it by hand. Sucks to be him.

It kept him from focusing much attention on John anyway, so that was a win.

“I know the places they meet are magical nexus points,” Batman admitted reluctantly, like he didn’t hoard information about everything on earth.

Constantine nodded, not willing to entertain his issues.

“Amity Park’s on a dozen of them,” he said bluntly, and watched the guy stiffen.

Zoom out a bit, find the flowering spot where damn near every ley line through that part of the world crossed. Zoomed back in to find Amity Park.

The bat scowled at the screen for a while, then at John, who’d put his feet up on the desk. Tough titties, they weren’t coming down.

“But what does that mean, Constantine,” he growled, and John sighed.

Cupped his hands in front of him, paused, and shook his head.

“Alright, I’m crap at metaphors so bear with me. You know about multiple dimensions?” He asked and the bat nodded impatiently.

Like he shouldn’t have asked. Like this fucker hadn’t just asked for the fuckin’ kindergartener explanation.

Whatever.

“Yes. There’s a different dimension on the other side of the ley lines?” He asked, and Constantine did his very best not to roll his eyes.

Well. Maybe not his very best.

But he didn’t do it as hard as he could have.

“No. There’s way too many other dimensions. But what the ley lines do is weaken a place in this dimension, especially where they cross. Amity Park is a fuckin’ sieve,” he said with finality, waiting for the Bat to catch up.

And sure enough, those frown lines etched themselves deep again. This guy was gonna make John Fuckin’ Constantine look like a fresh faced baby.

“So other dimensions can cross through?” He asked again, and John sighed.

Reductive fucker.

“No. Yes. Sort of. Because some stupid motherfucker in Amity Park didn’t just use the natural portals or holes; they punched a fuckin’ permanent portal to the Infinite Realms.”

Honestly using the natural portals would have been bad enough in his opinion. Reality was basically swiss cheese in Amity, and getting anything’s attention would be beyond dangerous.

He hadn’t even liked visiting.

Batman looked more stoic, which John assumed meant he wasn’t keeping up. Scrubbing his free hand through his hair, he blew out a stream of smoke and frowned.

“So you get natural portals between our dimension other dimensions. It’s how all that “evil other self” crap keeps happening. With me?” He asked dryly.

The bat nodded without speaking, which was as close to an admission of confusion as Constantine figured he’d get.

Whatever.

“You get more portals on ley lines, and more again where two cross. About a dozen cross in Amity Park, so they get lots of natural portals. Yes?”

The bat nodded again, face pinching up like he resented John’s tone. Double tough, he’d had every chance to read Zatanna’s primers.

If John was doing Ley Lines For Dummies the dummies could keep their attitudes to themselves.

“Natural portals, they open and close on their own. Rest of the world, they don’t usually stay open for long. They need power to stop the world from… mending the hole.”

Which was the worst fucking explanation of all time and not remotely what happened, but who fucking cared. Batty wanted to weigh in again.

“So natural portals also stay open longer around Amity Park,” he growled, trying to get to the next step of the explanation.

Which, actually, John hadn’t really thought about. Pursing his lips, he let his gaze drift to the smoke swirling around the ceiling.

There were actual fucking bats up there.

Of course there were.

Dramatic bastard.

Forcing his attention back to the bastard in question, he waved a hand to dispel the last stream of smoke.

“Doesn’t matter what natural portals do. Some asshole went to the spot in reality most likely to break on its own, and decided to punch a hole. A permanent hole, into the Infinite Realms.”

Batman took a deep, even breath in, like he was trying to hold onto his temper. Yeah, well, he’d walked face first into Amity Fuckin’ Park, now he had to join John in Hell.

“What are the Infinite Realms?” He asked, sounding as patient as ever. Brownie points for trying, John wasn’t going to.

“It’s where the unclaimed dead go. Souls not ready to move on, souls that were never born, and, much worse, it occasionally pops out personifications of forces or belief,” he ground out the last words, teeth gritting in spite of himself.

The bat stilled for a long moment, drawing in another slow, steady breath. Probably counting to ten.

“What.” It wasn’t even a question really, a flat statement of dissatisfaction.

It meant not talking about Amity Park for a bit longer though, so Constantine leaned in.

“God shit. Concepts like Time, Hope, Growth. Anything that someone, somewhere, truly believes in. Well, not just anyone,” he corrected, and Did Not enjoy the way Batman’s jaw clenched.

Not even a bit.

“It takes a lot of juice, makin’ a whole entity. But the Infinite Realms are the core of all the dimensions, the intersection they all go through, and that’s where the belief settles. The more people who believe, the more clearly they believe it, and eventually you get enough to form a personality.”

He gave the bat a little time to digest that one. To really let it sink in what a fuckin’ problem the Infinite Realms could be.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“Your city’s got one, y’know?” He mentioned almost as an afterthought, and Batty Did Not like that.

His head snapped up, white outs narrowing to slits as he glared.

“What?!” He demanded sharply and Constantine waved a hand.

“Gotham. Dunno if it’s all the shit you lot go through, or the stubborn arseholes that live ‘ere, but Gotham has a city spirit.”

No need to mention the curse yet. Batsy was already having a day.

That’d be for the next time he ticked Constantine off.

This time, just that revelation seemed to have been enough to stun the bat. Constantine left him to sit in this one until he was ready though.

Processing.

He wasn’t completely heartless.

He was a little grudgingly impressed by how quickly Batman put it aside and refocused on the matter in hand.

“And that’s why the Infinite Realms are dangerous? These powerful personifications?” He asked cautiously, like he expected John to say no again.

Smart man.

Constantine gave him a dry smile.

“If fuckin’ only. There’s spirits in there, Ancients, and every one of ‘em could give Darkseid a run for his money. But even the ghosts of the Realms are a fuckin’ dangerous lot. You know Deadman?”

The bat nodded to indicate that he did, brows furrowing.

“He can’t be seen or heard without magical assistance,” he agreed, that same caution present.

At least he was a quick learner. Constantine nodded in satisfaction.

“He’s a ghost made by magic. Ghosts from the Realms don’t have anything like the same limitations. They can’t be seen or touched unless they want to, and they can damn well affect the world around ‘em.”

John shuddered, remembering some of the attacks he’d seen. Nothing stronger than a baseline demon, but the damage you could do when no one else could touch you, or stop you…

And he shook his head, locking the damage back down.

“And worse, they’re fuckin’ unpredictable. Demons, they’re easy. They all want the same shit. Realms ghosts? If one of ‘em decides fuckin’ cheese is their obsession, that’s it. They’ll drown a city in cheddar.”

The bat was staring at him again, back on that stoic “I have no idea what’s happening so I’ll look big and scary til it all makes sense again” bullshit.

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look. I ain’t even told ya the worst of it yet. How about we jus’ take it as read that the Infinite Realms are bad fuckin’ news, okay?” He asked as patiently as he could.

There was that little twitch, that little scrunch again. Not a happy Batty.

And he wasn’t gonna get happier while he made John teach him Magic For Dummies either.

But he nodded, folding his arms reluctantly.

“Then why did you leave the people of Amity Park to face them alone?” He asked bluntly, and… well, that was the question, wasn’t it?

Constantine stared blankly at him.

“You want Superman gettin’ body hopped by a ghostie craving all the cheddar in the mid west?” He asked in turn, and there it was.

The little indrawn breath. The fuckin’ scale of the problem.

Fuckin’ FINALLY.

“Look, Amity Park has a hero. Had. The halfa.” He waved vaguely at the screen again, the picture of Bruce’s mystery kid now buried several windows deep.

Didn’t matter.

“He’s got all the powers the ghosts do, an’ can’t be possessed. Last thing the poor little fuck needed was to face an overshadowed super.”

And yeah, the Bat still didn’t look happy (more to the better, that’d be a terrifying sight all on its own), but at least he had a reason for resting bitch face now.

Constantine sighed, waving a hand vaguely and tossing the latest butt down.

“Look, I can’t stop ya from pokin’ around. Not for lack of trying, mind. The Realms are a dangerous place, an’ Amity Park’s practically on the other side already. I dunno why the kid left, I don’t care. You though, Bats? You’re gonna do me a proper fuckin’ oath.”

He levelled his best serious stare, useless as usual against the damn white outs. It’d kill the asswipe to look human.

Batman shifted again, clearly feeling the weight of the last word.

Good.

“An oath?” He asked warily, and Constantine nodded, holding out his hand.

“On yer name, on yer blood, on yer tie to this fuckin’ city. No matter what you do lookin’ at the Infinite fuckin’ Realms. You do not. Fuck. With the Ghost King.”

The bat stared down at his hand like there was something wrong with it. John assumed anyway. The pissy face could be for anything.

And then he asked the question, because of fuckin’ course he did.

“What is the Ghost King?”

John sighed heavily, leaving his hand where it was, waiting for the oath.

“The prettiest fuckin’ princess of them all, what d’you fuckin’ think. The Ghost King rules the Infinite Realms, and by all accounts the last one was a bloody tyrant. Good news is he probably never noticed Amity Park yet, cuz America isn’t a smoking crater.”

Honestly, maybe he’d add a chapter to Zatanna’s document. Stamp it all across any reference anyone tried to make to Amity Fuckin’ Park so he never had to do this again.

He caught the Bat’s gaze again, weighting his words with enough power that every sound in the cave died around them.

“It took all the damn Ancients to seal Pariah Dark once. And someone’s beaten him, and taken his throne. I don’t fuckin’ know who, I don’t ask, but if they’re tough enough to beat Pariah, they are beyond what the League can do. Your only chance is to stay the fuck outta their way. Swear it.”

Batman stared at him for a long moment, and then down at the outstretched hand. Reached out and clasped it in his own.

“I swear. I will not knowingly upset the Ghost King.”

John gripped tighter, realized almost immediately that it was pointless against the reinforced gloves, and did it anyway.

“None of that, Batty. No bullshit. You do not fuck with the Ghost King. You hear the faintest goddamn whisper of their name, you turn tail and fuckin’ run. We will not survive their attention.”

He stared the stupid white outs down, as long as it took, and didn’t let go. Batman stared at him for a while, clearly absorbing the gravity of his words.

Constantine couldn’t remember asking a member of the League to swear to anything before. Usually he was the buyer in deals, not the keeper.

Woulda been nice to remain so, but nothing stopped the fuckin’ bat from sticking his nose in, so here was John Constantine, last condom of the universe.

Last desperate scrap of protection against a fuckin’ dick.

Finally the bat nodded, grip tightening in return.

“I swear. I will not engage with the Ghost King.”

**

Harley had gotten back just before Sam had to leave, with perfect timing to see her to the door actually.

The look on Pamela Manson’s face when Harley kissed Sam on each cheek and waved her off would keep Danny warm on cold nights.

A quick check of flight times back to Massachusetts (like Danny wasn’t going to take shortcuts) confirmed that Tucker could have one more night in Gotham.

Tim immediately offered to put him up in Wayne Manor again, clearly not allowing the chance to slip by him two nights in a row. Tucker was only too happy to accept, although Steph and Cass begged off.

Probably for their hero patrols. Danny wasn’t exactly sure how many vigilantes Gotham had, there seemed to be a new one every few months, but having eight of them at the gala last night probably meant all the rest had been out.

Obviously Red Robin wouldn’t be out tonight either, but there were enough of them to cover for each other.

Danny was kinda jealous of that. It had been just him for so long, and then him and Valerie, which hadn’t been better until she stopped hunting him too. He’d have loved a night off.

Still, their numbers meant that Jason probably wouldn’t need to go back to the night life unless he actually wanted to. He was definitely still built for it, but Danny couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to ask him to.

Most of the bats had clearly had their own run ins with death, but Jason’s had stuck in ways even Danny knew he didn’t quite get.

Jason had been so tense at just the thought of Danny being a teen hero. It wasn’t like that’d get easier when it was his little siblings swinging from rooftops.

Danny’s hero career might have started with his own death, but he personally was of the opinion that that’d be a perfectly fine reason to end one too.

So Dick, Steph, and Cass headed out not too long after Sam, and Danny wasn’t exactly surprised when Jason’s background angst jumped.

He’d stayed on edge since Danny and Bruce got back, even when Harley told them Bruce was off dealing with his own shit and probably wouldn’t be out of his room all night.

Danny’d bet fifty bucks that the arrival of Constantine actually meant Bruce was in the bat cave being suspicious, but he wasn’t gonna say it.

Tim had shown them to a games room, for all that he’d apparently also moved out. He still knew where everything was, and soon had them hooked up for Mariokart on the biggest TV Danny ever saw.

They’d played a couple rounds (Harley was expectedly devastating with red shells) and while Danny and Tucker were having fun, he could feel Jason stressing.

Like, even if he stuck his fingers in his ears and ignored the aura. The guy was tensed so tight his shoulders strained at his shirt, which woulda been visually interesting if Danny didn’t know why.

Cass was one near death experience from slipping back across the boundary for good.

Cass was off punching criminals with rocket launchers in body armour and spandex.

Duke was probably actually in bed, Signal did morning patrols, and Damian was obstinately refusing to play video games with them perched on the back of the couch, but still.

Dick and Steph had both given one life to the cause too, and for all Dick was a cop and in danger on his day job too, cops pretty famously showed up after the vigilantes ended the party.

More than half Jason’s immediate family were back in the line of fire and Danny could practically taste Jason’s Obsession eating away at him.

As much as he tried to pretend he was playing along and gave a shit about winning, the controller creaked in his hands more than a couple casual races should allow.

So, yeah, if he couldn’t get Jason to crack a smile with this one, he was gonna gently bow them both the fuck outta the manor.

He kept half an eye on Tim, who had a glass of water.

“Hey, you guys heard the theory about Batman?” He asked casually, just as another round of Mariokart started.

Jason kicked him in the ankle but otherwise ignored him, which was fair. He’d been exposed to Danny’s bullshit.

Tim stiffened and then forced himself to relax, Tucker rolled his eyes and jostled Danny from his other side, but it was Harley who answered.

Innocent as the day she was born.

“Oh? What? Is it that he’s a lizardman? Cuz I got right up on that cowl and he’s definitely a mammal,” she said casually, not even looking away from the screen.

Danny was pretty sure he heard Damian almost slip off his perch.

He was a little bit in love with Harley Quinn. He should get her number for Jazz, maybe his big sister would learn to have a little fun.

Grinning broad and only half fake, he drifted a turn to pick up a double item from under Tucker’s nose.

“Shit, yeah, you might actually know! It’s his secret identity!” He exclaimed cheerfully, and felt the tension in the room ratchet up.

From Tim and Damian. Jason… still wasn’t paying attention.

Not like he was deeply immersed in the game, for all he kept up he was nowhere near the speed demon that handed Danny his ass the night before.

Hmm. Better get his attention.

Tim and Damian had already settled again, probably remembering he was already In The Know even if Tucker wasn’t, and Harley had given him a very knowing look right before she fire flowered him.

Almost ready.

He waited until Tim had taken a hasty sip of water on a calm stretch, nudged Jason in the shins, and made sure he was louder than the music.

“So d’you think it’s possible that Markiplier’s Batman?”

Tim sprayed water across the couch, Harley fucking cackled, and Jason snapped his head around to stare at Danny so hard he cricked his neck.

Danny red shelled him for good measure, just so he wasn’t missing anything on screen.

Tucker rolled his eyes, also deeply used to Danny’s bullshit and much more interested in gaming revenge.

“Fuck off Danny, Markiplier isn’t even a Gothamite,” he said disdainfully and Danny shook his head, grinning.

“That’s why it’s the perfect cover. I mean, Batman wants to keep his secret identity a secret, right? So having an identity that very publicly “isn’t in Gotham” makes perfect sense!” He argued cheerfully.

Jason half snorted a laugh beside him, picking back up and speeding his way back into the race. Across the couch Tim wiped his face, still catching his breath.

“I fucking hate that that made sense,” he moaned, and Harley cackled again.

“Nah, he’s got a point! How does anyone know where a youtuber lives? We only see one room!” She agreed cheerfully, clearly leaning in.

It was so nice to have a true showwoman in the crowd.

Damian looked angry in the confused way now, and Danny would hazard a guess he didn’t watch youtube at all, let alone a lets player. That might have made it funnier, had there been no other concerns.

Beside him Jason huffed out another dry chuckle, shaking his head with the barest hint of a smile.

“I can’t believe Batman has an OnlyFans,” he said in a solemn, almost sorrowful voice… and dropped a blue shell.

Tim groaned like his soul had gone with it, clinging desperately to his first place lead. Harley cackled and added her own green shells to the mix, dropping all three as they came to the home stretch.

“Don’t forget the calendar of tasteful nudes! All for charity, just what Batsy would like,” she crowed with evident glee, and Tucker snorted a laugh.

“It’d explain all the surgeries,” he agreed reluctantly, and Danny had a sudden, utterly wicked idea.

“Hey… now that Batman’s on OnlyFans, d’you think he’ll convince the whole Justice League to do a pinup calendar, or just the other bats?” He asked innocently, watching said bats from the corner of his eye.

Well, Robins technically, but since only Tim was of age birds didn’t seem appropriate.

Tim himself threw his controller to the ground, abandoning the game and throwing himself over the back of the couch and almost hitting Damian on the way.

Damian definitely hissed at him like a startled cat.

No way Danny imagined that this close to the finish.

Tucker hesitated for a long moment, clearly considering his odds of winning, but when Harley blasted past Tim’s spun out corpse and across the finish line he abandoned his controller too to check on Tim.

Harley was surprisingly good at the game when flopped sideways on her chosen couch, laughing too hard to breathe. Danny breezed into an easy third behind her and Jason, giving the other man an assessing look.

A little wary of reaching out with his aura, especially when Jason was on edge. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Didn’t want to be too invasive, if he was honest. Danny had… kinda always been the one who was new to aura stuff before. And he’d gotten used to it, in the Ghost Zone.

He’d never spent this much time with another halfa before. Especially not without a single trace of punching or stabbing.

Except in Mariokart, where the Geneva Convention held no sway.

Jason had clearly noticed him looking though, and read the concern even without Danny pushing. He gave Danny’s shoulder a gentle bump, a nudge of fine-stop worrying alongside.

Danny nudged back, his own disbelief tinged with understanding-empathy-worried too.

But, that was kinda the other thing… the thing he didn’t really want to bring up around the other bats just yet.

And while Jason had smiled, Danny didn’t think he’d mind them dipping out.

Faking a yawn, he stretched, cracked his back, and looked over to where Tim had rejoined the couch.

“Honestly, I’m beat. I gotta try and get back into a better sleep schedule before classes start,” he said, pulling a face at the self-reminder.

Their break was coming to its end, and then he’d be back into university. His class schedule was flexible, more afternoons than early mornings, but he’d… miss this.

Free time to just spend the whole day hanging out with friends and catching up. Meeting Jason’s family, Jason meeting his.

Danny didn’t actually know what Jason did, whether he was working or going back to school, but it was gonna come up soon.

They had a trip to Frostbite to plan, some ecto shots from Danny’s fridge, and at some point he still had to introduce Jason to Frighty… and probably ask the guy if he wanted to be called that still.

It’d be a little weird to start calling him Halloween or whatever, but frankly him obeying Danny’s orders and calling him “my liege” was way fucking weirder so it’d be fine.

And about four more days before half of Danny’s time would be eaten by lectures, study halls, and projects. Fuck, maybe Jason would give him a hand with those too.

So long as he wasn’t sick of Danny by then.

Another quick glance showed that Jason’s face had reset into that tense almost-scowl again, staring past the TV.

At the other end of the couch, Tim gave a disgruntled huff.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that next time,” he grumbled, shifting to Tucker with an adorable moment of sudden concern. “Do you need me to show you to a room too, or…”

Tucker shook his head with a snicker, giving Danny a side eye.

“Nah, unlike that weakling I got used to the vigilante sleep schedule back in high school. I’m good for a couple more hours at least,” he bragged.

Danny flipped him off, hauling himself to his feet and giving Jason a nudge.

“Yeah, well, this weakling fought a croc last night and needs his sleep. Mind giving me a ride back?” He asked when Jason looked up at him.

Gently offered a touch of easy out-reassurance-trust me.

The deep furrows in Jason’s brows twitched until he caught on and his expression cleared. He nodded quickly and pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah, we can take my bike.” Then he hesitated and looked a little uncertain. “You never told me where you live.”

It took Danny a moment to realise that… no, he really hadn’t, because that just plain didn’t feel right. But no, he’d met Jason again in that coffee shop, then come to the gala with Sam.

Hadn’t gone home last night, just stopped at one of Jason’s apparently multiple places; at least he was doing better than Danny had thought from the first apartment.

He found himself chuckling at the thought, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, we’ve only been to your place… I’m at the south dorm at Gotham U, I can give you directions as we get closer,” he offered and Jason nodded.

He felt… weird? Like he was surprised Danny had told him where he lived, and ashamed of being surprised.

Danny decided not to dig into it, offering Jason his arm and bowing like all those Shakespeare plays he knew Jason loved.

“Shall we?”

Jason’s moment of surprise was quickly swallowed by delight and he bowed back, then tucked his hand into Danny’s elbow. Almost definitely knew etiquette better than Danny did, so Danny wasn’t gonna doubt him.

“We shall. I’ll drop you off and head home,” he agreed, then paused and glanced back at Harley.

Whose giggling had completely ended and was now watching them like her favourite sitcom. Chin in hands and all.

“Did you wanna meet up here tomorrow, or…” Jason trailed off, obviously also a little put off by her intensity.

She perked up when addressed, giving him a cheery grin and a double thumbs up.

“Here or th’ station, I don’t mind! Hey, did ya wanna come too, Danny boy?” She asked sweetly, head cocked to the side and just waaaay too innocent.

Not that Danny could work out what she was up to.

“Uh… to do what?” He asked carefully, head cocking to match hers before he noticed and straightened up.

Her grin widened, so she noticed.

“Oh, Jason an’ I are gonna go check on my buddy Waylon, see if we can’t work out what he was doin’ at the gala. If youse threw down he might like ta see ya there?”

Which honestly left Danny at a loss, until Tim explained.

“Killer Croc. His actual name’s Waylon Jones, and he was Harley’s tenant in Coney Island before coming back to Gotham,” he said casually, and Danny stilled.

There was an intensity in the room that hadn’t been there before, a sudden wave that sent a chill down his spine. Something from Harley, suddenly predator sharp in a way he hadn’t felt since Skulker had been a serious threat.

For the life of him though, he couldn’t put his finger on what though, since she didn’t move. Just grinned like she had been all along.

“People called him Killer Croc cuz of his skin condition. He gave up tryin’ ta change their minds,” she said with a light shrug, completely belied by the intensity of her stare.

Danny couldn’t look away until she released him, something satisfied in the quirk of her lip. Like she could see the sudden well of memory in his chest.

He’d never actually given in to all the things his parents had called Phantom. They’d been ashamed of all of them when the truth came out, and he’d only had to put up with them for a few years.

He tried to imagine decades of it, being called a monster for things he couldn’t control. For nothing more than a weird scaly skin condition.

He couldn’t imagine going full bomb vest over it, but Danny was man enough to admit he might just be a little touchy because of Jason’s death.

Which Waylon might not even know about.

Suddenly he actually did want to know why they’d attacked the gala.

Until now it had just been inevitable, someone was going to so why not them, but… well. He’d felt it under the whole plan, every stupid step.

Jason had trusted Waylon, not Danny, to keep things from getting out of hand. To know that a tussle was part of the fun.

Danny hadn’t planned on asking, but. Yeah.

“I’d like that,” he agreed quickly, nodding, at about the same time as Tucker found his own voice.

“Wait, that’s a skin condition? He’s just like that?” The techie asked sharply, staring around at Tim and Damian to confirm.

And got a disdainful look from Damian back.

“Tt, what else would it be? Do you know many scaled people?” He asked archly.

Danny’s mind snapped directly to Dora and her asshole brother. Knew Tucker’s had gone to the same place a second later.

“More than you’d think,” he and Tucker said in unison, and they shared a grin. If there was one benefit to their fucked up ghost hunting years, it was shutting down smart ass remarks.

Damian only looked more annoyed at being corrected, and Tucker shrugged.

“I thought he mighta been a scientist and tried to fuse himself with a lizard or something, like in Spider-Man,” he elaborated, and Danny kinda hated how much their lives resembled superhero movies.

Not that he’d say that in a room full of bats.

Damian’s brows drew down even further and he sneered, displeasure evident, but Jason cut him off before he could speak.

“Before you make a comment about mad scientists I’m gonna remind you we live in a city with Viktor Fries,” he said dryly and Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

Big brother privileges.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Ellie had given Danny those?

Tucker gave Danny a confused look, and Danny just shrugged back. He didn’t pay much attention to Gotham’s various rogues; he didn’t want to tempt his Obsession.

Tim chimed in again, without actually looking at Tucker which was kinda impressive. Guess they were just very obviously new to Gotham.

“Dr Freeze. He uses a lot of liquid nitrogen and freeze rays, he’s usually after money or diamonds to try and cure his wife,” he explained with a slight shrug.

Tucker made a confused noise.

“So… couldn’t Bruce just pay him off and keep him from bothering the city?” He asked carefully, glancing around the room.

Jason actually snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“If he could, he would have. What Fries wants isn’t possible yet.”

Not possible for humans. Part of Danny perked up, wondering if Frostbite might have the answers… but no. It wasn’t his job to solve every problem in the world.

Bringing healthy humans to the Zone was iffy. An already sick woman… well, she might get hastened along her journey to the afterlife.

And this was a conversation he really wanted to keep away from, honestly. Gotham’s rogues weren’t his problem. Couldn’t be his problem.

Danny fought ghosts, unkillable entities who enjoyed missile attacks as sport. He wasn’t interested in learning how squishy human rogues were; it had been bad enough with his friends in the line of fire.

Mega pass on being the firing squad.

He almost reconsidered the trip tomorrow, but… he trusted Jason. Trusted Jason knew where he was coming from, and that neither of them wanted to trip Danny’s Obsession.

So he gave the big guy a smile and an elbow nudge, nodding for the door.

“Not that rogue chat isn’t fascinating, but you were taking me to bed?” He asked hopefully, and only realised what he’d said when Harley stuffed half her fist in her mouth to laugh.

And now, now Danny had a choice. He could feel the heat threatening to build, and blushing? Blushing would make things much worse.

Jason’s cheeks had pinked and that was adorable and Danny would ectoblast anyone who gave him shit for it, but if DANNY blushed, Tucker would never let it go.

No, the better answer had to be to play it off, and what did you do to counter red in makeup? You added green.

Not that Danny had used ectoplasm as a fucking colour corrector before, but he might as well try. So he let his grin go saucy, eyebrows waggling, and tried a teeny bit of spectral ice to cool his cheeks.

It made Jason chuckle again, so he’d take it as a win, and Jason gave him another bow, hand still tucked in Danny’s arm.

“Your chariot awaits.”

Tim and Tucker mimed puking almost simultaneously. They were perfect for each other. And had no taste, so that worked out well for them.

Danny ignored them all and gave the room a last wave, heading for the door and tugging Jason along with.

“Night all, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Harley, and Tucker just text me when you’re up and we’ll see about getting you home,” he called brightly, definitely not about to stop no matter what anyone said.

Not even when Harley hauled herself vertical and call after them,

“Oh, Danny! If the bat calendars do come out, shall I grab you a Red Hood one?” She asked saucily and Danny felt Jason’s grip spasm in his elbow.

Which. He was gonna try putting together later, but tonight he really did wanna get out of there before long.

Who even was Red Hood?

Danny’d never seen him and he hadn’t turned up at the gala, so he didn’t have a guess ready, just like Batwoman.

A couple of people in one of Danny’s classes simped constantly over his thighs, but Danny now figured it was because they hadn’t met Jason.

It was probably easiest to agree, so he gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder.

“Autographed please!”

**

The headache that had lessened as he talked to Harley was back in full swing, along with a throbbing pulse in his temples and roiling nausea in his gut.

Constantine’s damn cigarettes weren’t helping, but Bruce just didn’t feel up to wrestling them away from him.

He’d expected… well. He hadn’t expected Constantine to come through full of fire and indignation, accusing Bruce of making the fucking mess.

His bad feeling had intensified too, not in the slightest relaxed that Constantine could feel that scrungly fucking kid all the way up in the manor.

No matter what Constantine said about the “halfa”, that could not bode well. Not with the look he’d seen on the man’s fucking face.

Steph called him an occult OSHA violation in a trench coat. Anything that scared him worried Bruce.

He could put up with some smoke and some pain to get the information he needed with a minimum of fuss.

He was beginning to wish he’d gotten some sleep though. Or could have someone get him a drink of water.

He’d shown Constantine the missed call logs from Amity Park, and the magician swore in ways that made Bruce see flashes of colour.

(That might have been the concussion talking, but Bruce could remember the almost buzzing swearwords he’d heard from Sam Manson and wasn’t sure. Nothing could be trusted.)

Not at the volume of the logs, that hadn’t surprised him. No, Constantine had gotten serious when Bruce shared the logs Tim had first shown him.

‘Earth is gone. The sky is green and Earth is gone.’

“Alright, that? That’s very fuckin’ bad,” the magician grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a flask for the first time since he’d arrived.

At least it wasn’t another goddamn cigarette. Little fucking meow meow magician.

(Bruce wasn’t quite sure what that one meant, but Steph usually said it with enough derision it had to apply.)

“So I assumed,” he gritted out, jaw clenching against another pang of pain.

Constantine levelled him with a blank stare. Bruce made a conscious effort to relax his face. The tensing wasn’t helping anyway.

“No, Batman. I mean really, really not fuckin’ good. They never called again?” He asked, and the sudden gravity in his voice sunk through layers of ache and irritation.

He sounded as serious as he’d been about the oath. That definitely wasn’t good.

Bruce shook his head, scrolling demonstratively to the end of the file.

“Not after this cluster of messages, all within the same day.”

Tim had all sorts of explanations for that. Bruce fervently hoped he was right and it was just pique on the part of Amity Park; he’d take them being angry with the League over anything else.

Especially anything that made John Constantine look that serious.

“An’ the town’s still there?” He asked, like that was a reasonable question.

Except… Bruce suddenly wasn’t sure. There were alumni from Amity Park, people who’d moved away, but the sheer lack of online information about the town itself…

They hadn’t even been able to get a clear satellite image.

He should have noticed that. He should have checked that. If he hadn’t been so twisted up in his worries about Jason…

But no, that wasn’t fair.

Bruce closed his eyes a moment, calming himself down. Breathing through the sluggish throb at his temples.

None of their Amity Parkers talked about the town like it was missing, or anything out of the ordinary. His children would have flagged it.

This wasn’t an oversight, but Constantine may know something that none of his family could have assumed.

He just had to get this finished. This briefing with Constantine, his report to the League, Jason… no. Sleep first, some pain killers, a more thorough scan.

Maybe a day of recovery, as soon as he could afford one. Wait until his head cleared.

Harley was right, Jason deserved the best Bruce could give him, and trying to talk to his son now would not go well. Bruce was only barely tolerating Constantine’s presence.

For all the man was alarmingly combative about this subject, he was a pussycat compared to Jason in a mood. Jason knew far more about what would hurt Bruce most.

Jason had always been what hurt Bruce most, ever since he’d held his lifeless body. Jason, and even the thought of one of his other children following him where Bruce couldn’t go.

No. He just had to get through this.

Refocusing on John-Bloody… no, that wasn’t helping either. On Constantine.

“From what we’ve gathered from people who have left Amity Park since, they still have access to the outside world.” He wasn’t quite sure what else he could commit to now.

It didn’t seem to satisfy. It didn’t satisfy Bruce either.

“Okay, but ya remember what I said about the fabric of reality bein’ swiss fuckin’ cheese around this city?” Constantine asked, his usual drawl starkly absent.

Bruce found himself tensing again. Wishing this was something he could fight.

“Yes. We haven’t been able to receive any satellite imagery of the town, nor any footage or communication online from within.”

He could pull up all the data, all the social media, but he knew Constantine wouldn’t care. It wasn’t what he’d asked for.

And sure enough, Constantine hauled himself back to his feet, striding towards the zeta tubes.

“Right. Well, guess we’re takin’ a field trip to th’ Watchtower, B-man, because you’re really not gonna like what I’d have to do to this lovely cave to get the intel I need. We’ll need every sensor you lot have, because that?”

Constantine half turned on his walk, finger jabbing at that last message. Barely even glancing in Bruce’s direction.

It felt like an accusation.

“That’s not fuckin’ good. That sounds like the Infinite Fucking Realms,” he declared darkly, trench coat billowing around him as he stalked across the cave.

Bruce almost flinched. Like he had no control over his expressions.

He needed sleep.

He needed answers. Needed to know what had happened, and what had to happen to fix it.

Needed to know they hadn’t let a half dead child take on an entire alternate dimension alone, because no matter how little he trusted the man Danny was, the thought of the child still ached.

Needed to know if that suspicion was actually justified by anything but his own inability to accept Jason’s clear. To have an unknown factor in Jason’s life.

Constantine’s reaction was one point in Bruce’s favour.

Whatever they found about the current state of Amity Park… would tell the rest.

He forced himself out of his seat to follow Constantine, hand straying to the pocket on his belt that held his emergency stimulants.

Alfred wouldn’t be pleased, the tiny pills carried an adrenaline boost that was wearing even at full health, but he needed to be sharp. Just for a few more hours.

He could pass what they learned off to Clark and Diana, and to his children when he returned. Just for a little while. A few hours.

Amity Park had gone unnoticed for years, as little as Bruce liked that fact. He could only hope that whatever threat it presented would lie dormant just a little longer.

**

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week, if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the pit dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half turning to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off Jason Todd, Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

Jason was gonna blame Bruce for this chronic overthinking. Definitely not something he’d had on his own.

He’d thought about it long enough that he could feel Danny tensing, and he forced himself to snap out of it. In all honesty, it wasn’t his business what Danny thought he’d get out of it.

In the end, there was no point second guessing what someone else wanted to do with their time. It was Danny’s call. Not his.

And that kinda helped.

He half shrugged, leaning back into Danny for a moment and tugging him forwards again.

“I mean, we’re not “Thanksgiving at each others’ houses” close, but… he’s helped me out since I came back. More than I expected anyone to. I don’t mind if you wanna meet him,” Jason explained.

Danny obediently moved back into position to go, his aura a gentle hum of curiosity-concern-interest at Jason’s back.

“So do I make my own way, or…”

“I’ll come get you, probably around eleven?” Jason offered, definitely NOT thinking about Danny being back in this same position very soon.

He was gonna have to get another helmet for the bike. Immortal Ghost King or not, it just felt rude at this point.

**

After Danny and Jason left, Tim, Harley, and Tucker played a few more rounds of Mariokart together. Switched to a couple other games. Damian abandoned them almost immediately, disappearing half way through a round.

Probably to start a patrol of his own, or go try to spy on Danny and Jason.

Eventually Harley wished both the boys well and headed out with a cheery wave.

“Right, maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow or maybe not, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she called cheerfully, then paused and pointed at Tucker. “An’ keep an eye on Tim. Make sure he sleeps.”

Tim rolled his eyes, not looking up from their new round of SpiderHeck to wave her off. Tucker did, and Tim took advantage to swing across the map and cut him down with a lightsaber.

Amateur.

“Huh? Oh, sure! Fucking hell Tim,” Tuck complained as his attention switched back to the defeat screen.

Tim snickered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t keep your head in the game,” he teased smugly. Tucker poked him in the face.

“Not my fault I have enough manners to look at people when they talk to me. So is Harley gonna be staying in the manor too?” He added curiously, glancing around.

They easily had the rooms for it, though Tim didn’t really wanna think about it. What might Harley get up to on a 2am snack run?

Although it wasn’t that far from 2am now.

“I don’t think so, she has a place in the city at the moment,” he mused, his mind beginning to shift.

It wasn’t that he’d been waiting for witnesses to clear out, exactly. Everyone was in on the secret, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to head down to the Bat Cave even when they had the larger group.

It was just… they’d been having fun. It’d be rude to leave their guests, and Bruce was already being cranky down in the cave.

Of course, Tim’d gotten another ping on his zeta tube monitoring program an hour or so ago. Constantine and Bruce both checking out, probably to the Watchtower.

So it’d be safe now, and they’d reached an okay stopping point. Tim had no doubt that Tucker would prefer checking out the cave over any games.

Tim couldn’t let him on the bat computer yet, but he could show Tucker a couple of Tim’s better scanning programs. Maybe even ping Babs and see how the others were doing.

See if she had time to talk to Tucker in person. Maybe he could show them both how he’d encrypted that server, which Tim suspected would involve ectoplasm.

Not like he couldn’t link the PDA to an un-networked monitor so that they could all see what he was doing though. Hell, they could record it for Bruce.

He’d love having answers to the Amity Park problem. If Tucker would let Tim run the PDA for a few minutes…

Still, it was just good manners to check in.

Alfred would be thrilled that they were learning to communicate.

Pulling out his phone, he shot Bruce a quick text.

‘Hey, we’re gonna head down to the Cave. You mind if I give a tour?’

It didn’t take long to get a reply, which was usually a good sign. It meant Bruce wasn’t hyperfocused enough to ignore his phone.

Maybe things with Constantine were going well.

The length of the reply wasn’t as reassuring, but not a surprise either. Bruce wasn’t exactly wordy in person, and only less so over text.

‘Go ahead.’

No indication of when he’d be back, but that was fine. They could compare notes whenever that turned out to be.

Tim turned to Tucker, grinning in anticipation of the other man’s reaction.

“So, wanna see something cool?” He asked, and felt gratified when Tucker’s eyes widened and a matching grin spread across his face.

But who wouldn’t be excited to see the Bat Cave?

“Hell yeah!”

**

Tucker followed Tim eagerly out of the games room, mind already buzzing with all the things the young genius might want to show him.

Did they have a tech lab in Wayne Manor? They definitely had the space for it, and it had to be safer than keeping one at Tim’s downtown apartment.

Bruce might not have been much of a techie but Tim was personally responsible for enough big developments that he was considered a prodigy even in Tucker’s circles.

Of course the guy had the advantage of near limitless money and resources, especially after Drake Industries merged with Wayne Enterprises.

With that kinda money, Tucker himself could have revolutionised the world. But, Tuck had the advantage of the Ghost Zone and ecto tech, so he wasn’t too upset.

Especially not if Tim was really going to let him see where the magic happened.

He did nearly let out an audible groan as Tim led him into an office and activated a secret elevator in a clock. Maybe Danny had a point… maybe all billionaires were dramatic assholes.

Maybe Sam had a point, and they were all evil. Maybe Tim was bringing him down to an evil lab.

Caution reluctantly seeped into Tucker’s excitement, but he fought it off sharply. Tim was a good guy, they were becoming real friends, and Tuck couldn’t believe a fellow techie would betray him.

Besides, no one in Gotham knew shit about ghost tech, or liminals. It wasn’t like Tucker would actually be in any danger from a scrawny nerd like Tim.

Even if he did have very nice shoulders. Shapely arms. An almost snatched waist that almost tipped to androgyny, but he carried it so well.

Anyway.

Tim definitely wouldn’t hurt him.

It was probably just a super secure underground tech lab, to keep anyone from stealing secrets. Tucker let himself hype up again, imagining the kind of security measures Tim could install underground.

It’d remove the chances of someone sneaking through a back window for sure. And sure, rock wouldn’t stop a ghost, but it stopped pretty much anyone else if you added seismic sensors.

It made sense, really, putting all Tim’s very coolest and most secret cutting edge tech experiments somewhere that no one would expect, and almost no one could get to.

Tucker found himself rocking forward on his toes as the elevator descended, and flushed a little when he noticed Tim smiling.

He was excited, sue him. It beat worrying that he was about to get his first go at the Danny Fenton Lab Experience.

Thankfully no one ever cared enough to capture the nerds.

Tim was quiet on the way down, clearly savouring the anticipation, and that suited Tucker fine. It wasn’t a long ride, and he all but bounced out of the doors as soon as they opened.

Stopped.

Stared around at blank stone walls, stalactites on the ceiling, and… a waterfall? A robotic dinosaur? A row of display cases?

This was not a super cool high tech research lab.

This kinda might be a supervillain cave.

Tucker’s heart sank for a moment, especially as he noticed more and more Batman themed pieces on walls and cases.

Bruce Wayne (please don’t let it be Tim’s secret project any more, Tucker couldn’t bear it) was obsessed with Batman. Collecting trophies.

Probably wanted to catch the hero himself and stuff him in a case. Rich people were all like that apparently.

Except… the locker room? Off to one side? Where a freshly laundered Red Robin uniform hung, neat and pristine?

Collector freaks never let anyone clean their stuff, especially if it might have had gross hero sweat to obsess over.

And that was the Batmobile, parked next to a large garage door. An array of motorcycles, and Tucker was no expert on Gotham’s heroes but there were at least three colour schemes.

Someone had been changing the oil on one of them.

A massive computer screen, surrounded by smaller screens at various angles, and as he approached in awe he spotted a bat sticker on almost every monitor.

No way anyone ever stole THE Batcomputer. People would notice. Someone would talk, there were legends about Batman’s set up!

Half Tucker’s class would have killed for a look at the tech, no way they wouldn’t know if it ever got loose.

Which meant.

Tucker knew his jaw had dropped. Couldn’t find it in himself to close it as he turned back to Tim, eyes wide, and watched all colour drain from the other man’s face.

“Is this the fucking Bat Cave?! Is Bruce Fucking Wayne actually Batman?!” He exclaimed eagerly, not even wondering why Tim suddenly looked so shocked.

This really was the best day ever.

Wait.

“You DO know the fucking Oracle!”

**

Well.

The curse of Robin had come for Tim at last. Bruce was absolutely going to fucking kill him.

But, okay, in his defence, it totally wasn’t Tim’s fault! He’d assumed Tucker already knew because Danny one thousand percent definitely did, he called Dick out in costume!

And Tucker was still trustworthy! Still an asset! And he’d help Tim get past the firewalls, get into Amity Park, all they had to do was get enough work done before Bruce came back.

And killed Tim.

For bringing an unknowing civilian into the fucking bat cave.

Best day ever.

Tim sucked in a great rasping breath, suddenly aware that he’d completely stopped breathing somewhere in there, and shook his head.

Okay. Snap out of it Tim.

Those nights with Alfred-supervision had made him weak, no way only thirty-six hours without sleep should have done this to him.

Too bad, sleep deprivation would have been a great excuse.

He wasted a moment lamenting his lack of immediate coffee and turned his focus to the actual problem: the Amity Park firewall.

Tucker was still staring at him in awe and triumph, though worry was creeping in. Tim pulled on a charming smile, walking to the batcomputer and gesturing for Tucker to join him.

“Uh… yeah, sorry, I thought Danny already told you or I’d have said. I didn’t mean to spring it on you,” he lied, like he’d have ever let the secret slip.

Tucker pouted then, folding his arms.

“Oh, of course Danny knows. Bet that’s how he and Jason met. So does that mean you’re…” he trailed off curiously, clearly hoping Tim would fill in the blank.

Tim considered being mildly offended that Tucker didn’t think he could be Oracle, but he valued his digital security. Zero chance Babs wouldn’t be pulling this video up later for a laugh.

He nodded to his suit instead, the new one hanging waiting. Probably for tomorrow night at this point, since there was no reason to change just to hang out in the cave.

“Red Robin. I ah… saw you last night at the gala,” he added sheepishly, wondering just how much of Tim’s minor breakdown Tucker had noticed while waiting to give Tim the tablet.

And Tucker’s eyes lit up, clearly remembering, and he grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Oh! That explains why you left, huh? I guess someone had to deal with the rogues and stuff,” he mused thoughtfully.

Tim had to hope he wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing. At least the discovery was going well so far; Tim couldn’t think of many people he’d had to share this particular secret with, and most of the ones who did had been villains at one time or another, but still.

Tucker was keeping up, wasn’t freaking out, and had gotten over his surprise in record time. Tim definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Tuck had been a vigilante himself after all, it’s not like he was a civilian. And had already admitted he didn’t pay much attention to vigilantes, so he might not even know which one Red Robin was.

It’d just. Have been nice if he was more impressed.

Not that Tim cared. He wasn’t Red Robin to impress people, and usually didn’t even think about it.

And Tucker didn’t seem surprised or upset when Tim steered him to one of the tables beside the batcomputer instead of the big baby itself, and got one of the un-networked monitors out.

“Pretty much. I get a little… antsy if a takedown goes too easily, because with Riddler it usually means we’re missing something,” he explained dryly, pointing Tucker to a second wheely chair to pull over, “but yesterday it was apparently just a shitty rush job on his part.”

Tucker snickered at that, wheeling the directed chair over and sitting eagerly beside Tim, still darting looks at the bigger screens.

“Should I be mad I didn’t get their best work?” He mock-pondered, and Tim snickered.

“Probably. But Riddler and Croc aren’t really A-listers or big on the mass destruction side anyway.”

“Waylon,” Tucker corrected almost absent mindedly, pulling out his PDA.

Tim missed exactly what he did next as he remembered Harley’s little tidbit, and he pulled a face.

“Yeah… I’ve not exactly had the one-on-one time with him Jason’s had, I don’t think we’re on a first name basis,” he explained, shaking his head as the monitor sprung to life.

Tucker snorted a laugh, flicking through screens on the PDA.

“What, Mr Jones then? Want me to just start downloading the Amity Park records first, then we’ll go hunting?” He added, and Tim nodded quickly, snickering himself at the vision.

Nothing threw a shining ball of confusion into a fight like calling someone “Mr Jones”. He’d have to try it if Croc… Mr Jones was gonna be back on the scene.

It was the name that went on all of his prison paperwork, so it wasn’t like it was a secret identity the same way the bats had.

“Honestly? Better than Waylon. And yeah, we can start with the government files and news reports, just so we have a backup. Then we’ll look around and find out what else B thinks we’ll need.”

Tucker snickered beside him, flicking quickly through screens on the PDA. Despite it being purely for his benefit, Tim pretty much ignored the monitor, keeping most of his attention on the device itself.

It was chunky and very retro, but given the processing power and space for storage? There was a definite charm to it.

Maybe Tucker would let him play around on it later.

But, in the spirit of not being killed when Bruce returned… there was one thing they definitely needed to talk about.

“I…” Tim sucked in a deep breath. He’d put good money on Tuck, Danny, and Sam being what actually solved Amity Park’s last calls to the League.

It might be a traumatic memory. Probably was. But he had to ask. And better him than Bruce.

Tucker looked up when he trailed off, making a curious noise. Not exactly asking what Tim wasn’t saying, but showing he’d noticed the pause.

Sighing to himself, Tim wheeled across to the batcomputer. Bruce probably still had the files up.

“I also think we need to talk about these,” he explained, pulling up the records for the Justice League’s missed calls. Hundreds of them.

Tucker just looked nonplussed for a moment, then sobered. Probably when the dates sank in and told him what they were talking about.

“Oh… yeah. Probably,” he agreed, sounding more serious than Tim had ever heard him. Which kinda proved Tim’s point about traumatic memories.

Leaving the records on screen, Tim wheeled back over, pulling out one of his larger recorders. This conversation might take a while.

“Do you mind if I just record what you tell me? B’s gonna want a full write up. He’s off ripping a strip off of Constantine as we speak, probably, cuz whatever he did… this lot went past voice mail and straight to the trash.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology, wasn’t exactly an excuse, and Tim cut himself off before it turned into whining. The past was past, and it was too late to change that now.

Something complicated crossed Tucker’s face as he spoke, and Tim tried not to look too closely. Didn’t want his overly analytical side latching on.

The only thing they could do was work out what happened, and if there was still anything the league could do to make up for majorly dropping the ball.

Tucker sucked in a deep breath of his own, letting it out in a low whistle.

“Y’know, I thought we were coming down here for fun and tech talk,” he said almost wistfully, and Tim chuckled wryly.

“We can definitely still do that. It’ll just unknot Bruce’s panties some if we’ve got this part out of the way before he gets back. That way you’re just telling me, no “swooping menace in the shadows”,” he added half sarcastically, and Tucker laughed.

He looked… well. Haunted. But that wasn’t exactly a sensible descriptor for a guy who spent years hunting ghosts.

Not too bad though. No tremors, no tightness in the eyes or jaw that said he was hiding something. His skin was still a rich, warm brown, no paler than before.

If he was having a deeper reaction than the tiredness, he was hiding it in a way Tim couldn’t hope to spot. That… was probably the best sign Tim had seen about this particular shit show.

Chuckling to himself, Tucker checked the PDA one more time, then set it on the table and turned to face Tim directly.

“Yeah, might as well do it during the file download. Your setup is gorgeous, but that’s still gonna take a while. If you ask me, you’re not gonna need to ask Danny about it later, right?” He asked, and Tim bit his lip.

Less good sign. Seemed Danny carried more of the weight of this one too.

“B’ll probably want his side, and to check the stories match, but Jason won’t let him push Danny into anything,” he offered instead of a blanket statement.

Tucker cocked his head a little, examining Tim for a long moment in a way that made him feel almost… dissected. Like a piece of tech Tucker had taken apart, and was looking for secrets in.

Finally the older boy nodded and shrugged, leaning back.

“Yeah, fair. It’s damn hard to pin Danny down if he wants to leave anyway. There’s some Fenton tech that’d do it, but it’s not like you can get that here. So… where do you want me to start?”

Filing away that comment about the Fenton tech for later, Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the big screen.

“Do we have time to start at the beginning? The first calls?” He asked, half expecting the answer to be “no”.

Tucker glanced down at his PDA, and snickered.

“Well, I can give you the Cliff’s Notes version. And then if you have questions you can ask?”

Which… yeah, Tim glanced at their little offline monitor. It was a pretty big download; Tucker had meant it when he said he was grabbing everything for them.

That had to be a sign of good faith, right?

And then after that they’d have to shift everything over to an un-networked hard drive. After whatever Tuck had to do to de-ecto it.

Shoulders settling, Tim put the recorder on the table before him.

“Sounds good. So… Tucker Foley, current top student at MIT and soon to be receiver of a Wayne Enterprises internship,” he teased, enjoying the way Tucker snickered again, also visibly relaxing.

Might as well make this as comfortable as possible. They could break after Tucker finished for some drinks or something.

“What happened in Amity Park?”

**

On the Watchtower, Bruce slid his phone back into its pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the pacing magician.

He’d pulled up every type of reading they could gather from Amity Park for the week of the last distress call, and from their current logs.

Thermal imaging, infrared and ultraviolets, seismography, electromagnetic waves, spectrography, and several that Bruce wasn’t sure what they were, just that the Justice League Dark were the only ones who used them.

The fact that even Bruce could see extremely obvious spikes on more than half of them was not a good sign. It made checking the dates almost superfluous.

Nor was the way that even though those spikes had lowered within that same day… they’d never gone all the way back down.

In every magical sense they could detect (and half a dozen scientific ways he was actually comfortable with), Amity Park glowed like a cartoon nuke.

The only good news was that their radiation sensors had gone straight back down to normal after the initial spikes. Which made no scientific sense given the normal decay of radioactive materials, but Bruce was not going to argue.

He appreciated Tim checking in though. The gesture towards clearer communication. He wasn’t sure exactly what Tim would want to show Harley in a tour of the bat cave, but honestly?

He wasn’t going to ask. It was nice to have something that wasn’t his problem, and he trusted Tim and Harley, together or separately.

It wasn’t like Tim would bring anyone else down to the cave.

——————

😇

I regret nothing.

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